Healing of the Heart
by Mirage Shinkiro
Summary: G1. When Hound accidentally forges a spark bond with Mirage in order to save his life, he and Mirage find themselves facing a range of complex issues they would have never imagined. When love alone isn’t enough, how can one find healing? Very mature.
1. An Unthinkable Accident

_Title: A Healing of the Heart_  
_Author:_ Mirage Shinkiro

_Rating:_ M  
_Warnings:_ mech/mech plug 'n' play and spark bonding, a.k.a. intimacy between androgynous and nonsexually reproducing but male-"pronoun'd" 'bots. **Extra warning: this fic references past sexual trauma. If you are sensitive to such material, do not read.**

_Pairings, major:_ Hound/Mirage  
_Parings, minor/forming:_ Optimus/Elita, Ratchet/Sideswipe, Wheeljack/Bluestreak

_Disclaimer:_ Transformers is the property of Hasbro, and although I wish I could make money off the TF franchise so I could be independently wealthy, I am not. Alas, I remain poor and am just borrowing the lovely robots.

_Summary:_ G1. When Hound accidentally forges a spark bond with Mirage in order to save the spy's life, he and Mirage find themselves facing a range of complex issues they would have never imagined. When love alone isn't enough, how can one find healing? Very mature exploration of sexual abuse and its potential lasting impacts.

_A/N, explanation:_ I can never seem to write a normal, straightforward, 'first love' story, which I find most amusing. "Magic and Loss" is the only one I've written to date, and I sat on that story for months, adding and deleting scenes, until I was finally ready to post it. Still, this idea hit me, and I ran with it.

This story is in the same continuity as "Magic and Loss" and "Sound and Fury," which are set in season 2 and are slowly veering off AU.

_A/N, story notes:_ :: :: will indicate comm. link or inter-bond talking.

_A/N, units of time (source, TFwiki):_ nanoklik=1 second; klik=1.2minutes; breem=8.3 minutes; joor=roughly an hour;orn=a day; and vorn=83 years.

oOoOo

_"All healing is first a healing of the heart."  
- Carl Townsend_

_**Chapter 1: An Unthinkable Accident**_

In Ratchet's office, Hound sat across from the fuming CMO and looked anywhere but at the mech who he assumed would dress him down. He gaze flitted from the stacked datapads on the desk to his lap, where he'd clasped his hands. In his nervousness, he found himself rubbing his thumbs together. Although he knew he couldn't, Hound wanted to defend himself. After all, his spark bond with Mirage had been a total accident.

The mission had been routine, or rather it was supposed to have been. Optimus Prime had carefully picked the team members: one scout, one spy, and two warriors. The only thing Optimus hadn't been able to spare was a medic, thanks to the numerous casualties from a recent 'Con-induced catastrophe at Edwards Air Force base. As a result, Hound, who was the team leader, had been the only mech with first aid training.

Thus the mistake.

Hound and his team had been checking on suspicious activity at the Washington state/Canadian border when the Decepticons had revealed themselves and struck. Sideswipe and Brawn enthusiastically joined the fight against the Coneheads, Soundwave, and his cassettes, while Mirage disappeared to sneak in from behind. Hound was radioing Autobot Headquarters for backup when Mirage was hit. Fortunately, Skyfire and Powerglide were returning from a mission at the Arctic and rushed to help, so Hound focused on saving Mirage while everyone else fought.

"Stay with me," Hound had told his best friend, his secret love. He was covered in spilt energon up to his elbows, and Mirage was still bleeding out.

Mirage had given him a faint smile. "I don't think . . . that field surgery . . . will save me," he said before falling into stasis lock.

Desperate, Hound had given him both an energon transfusion and a spark energy transfusion—from himself.

Now Hound sat in Ratchet's office under the glare of a very displeased CMO. The hum of the overhead lights and computer terminals filled the room, and Hound fought off the urge to squirm under the silent scrutiny of those intense blue optics.

"You're a fool," Ratchet said bluntly.

Hound squeezed the chair arms. "I know! I know I shouldn't have done it." Guilt and vindication warred within him. "I nearly drained myself dry, and I created an accidental spark bond. But Mirage is one of my closest friends, and I couldn't stand there and let him die!" He conveniently left out the part about how he was also in love with his best friend.

Ratchet raised one optic ridge, a frown marring his pale grey face. "I slaggin' well know that. I don't let patients go easily whether they're my friends or not. But a _spark bond_? This is not like the accidental spark bond Optimus created with Elita when he saved her life. They were already in love and committed to each other. In your case, this could backfire on you severely." Ratchet glanced out the one-way window of his office, which afforded him a view of the medbay. Mirage was in forced stasis lock on a repair berth.

"I know," Hound whispered, chastised.

"Do you?" Ratchet looked back at him. "If Mirage rejects the bond, it will cause you both agony. You more so because you initiated the bond, and therefore your firewalls are gone. Since he was badly injured when you did it, Mirage's firewalls were down, but they're not _gone_. He can raise them and choke the bond." Ratchet sighed and crossed his arms over his boxy chest. "He can't break it, of course. Nothing can, except death. But he can fight it until it's nearly shut down and all you get are occasional bursts of anger or resentment."

Hound dropped his gaze to his knees, caught somewhere between panic and depression. "Resentment because now he can never be bonded to another."

"Not unless you die, and that assumes the backlash won't kill him in the process."

Leaning forward, Hound dropped his face into his hands and shuddered. "I just didn't want him to die."

"Let's hope Mirage is that grateful to live, then." Ratchet stood and walked around his desk, then patted Hound on the shoulder. "I understand why you did it." His tone grew kinder. "When I was younger, I would have made the same mistake. But you didn't have Mirage's permission to do this, so you have to be prepared for the possibility that he may resent you."

Hound nodded, not removing his hands from his face. Life with Mirage hating him? They had taken missions, shared patrols, and spent off-hours together for five vorns _before_ crashing on Earth. Once Mirage had decided to befriend the grunts he found himself fighting beside, he and Hound had become nearly inseparable. However, Hound had never had the courage to ask if Mirage felt more for him than friendship.

"It's time to bring him around," Ratchet said. "Let's go."

Gathering his nerve, Hound stood and followed Ratchet into the medbay proper. Four patients were in stasis lock: Mirage, plus Cliffjumper, Windcharger, and Trailbreaker, all of whom had been severely injured in the Edwards Air Force base attack. For Hound, this was an odd type of relief, since it meant no one except Ratchet would be conscious to see him be jilted.

"Here we go," Ratchet said, opening an access panel on Mirage's neck. He pushed a button, and immediately the whirl of rebooting systems filled the air.

"Primus," Hound whispered, terrified.

After a klik, Mirage's optics powered on, and his gaze fell on Ratchet. "W-where? Oh, dear. Medbay. How badly am I damaged?"

"You're good to go, actually." Ratchet helped him sit up. "Your systems will be slow for another joor, so you may feel groggy. But I have you all fixed up."

Mirage turned his head toward Hound, a look of consternation blooming across his face as he frowned. "Hound? Why are you so scared?" A full twenty astroseconds passed while Mirage seemed to process something. "Wait. Why can I feel your fear?"

Hound thought he might fall into emergency stasis lock from his dread. "M-mirage . . ." He gathered himself. "I had to do something drastic to save your life. I-I just didn't want you to die, so please try to forgive me." He could feel Mirage's confusion through their tentative bond, then his growing concern.

"What did you have to do?" Mirage's cultured voice dropped a half-octave, his optics narrowing in suspicion.

Preparing himself for the rejection, Hound drew a deep draught of air through his intakes. "I had to give you some of my spark energy."

"Spark energy?" Mirage tilted his head, sounding completely befuddled. "Isn't that dangerous for _you_ instead? Why should it affect me?"

Ratchet squeezed Mirage's shoulder, catching his attention as well as offering comfort. "Hound gave you a significant amount of energy. So much, in fact, that it caused an accidental Bond."

Dead silence. Mirage stared at Ratchet, clearly speechless, and Hound could feel his shock. The buzz of the overhead lights seemed deafening.

"Oh," Mirage finally replied. After a klik, he visibly relaxed, his shoulders slumping faintly. "Well, if that were going to happen, at least it was with my closest friend." He gave Hound a small smile. "I suppose this will be awkward at first, but I'm sure we can figure it out."

Feeling Mirage's acceptance, Hound was swamped with such extreme relief that he sank to his knees, his legs no longer able to support his weight. "Yeah," he said, his voice raspy with unexpressed emotion. "We'll figure it out."

Ratchet nodded. "Good. I'm taking you both off the duty roster for the next three orns. You need to acclimate to the sensations the Bond will give you. I'll also report this to Optimus."

Taking the cue, Mirage climbed off the berth and offered Hound his hand. "Let's go to my quarters, then, since I don't have a roommate."

Hound nodded and took his hand, letting Mirage help him to his feet and lead him from medbay. _Can he really accept this so easily?_ Hound wondered. _He's almost nonchalant. I don't understand._

A new feeling of uneasiness filled Hound's spark. He couldn't imagine how anyone could adjust to such a monumental change so effortlessly.

oOoOo

Mirage traversed the Ark's hallways, holding Hound's hand tightly as his processor ran at twice its normal speed. _I'm bonded? How my creators would laugh if they still lived! To Hound? Well, he is the sweetest, kindest, and most intuitive 'bot I know, and I've always wondered what it'd be like to kiss him. Will this work? I guess we have to make it work. There's no going back. At least I get to skip all those ridiculous, confusing dating games. And Hound has rarified sensibilities and tastes when it comes to art . . ._

Mirage's thoughts trailed off when they reached his quarters. In the back of his mind, he could feel anxiety that was not his own. Hound was unsettled and scared. Well, it _was_ awkward, so Mirage wasn't surprised. He shoved aside the strange sensation and entered his security code, unlocking his door. "Do come in," he said, proper decorum escaping his mouth without thought, and pulled Hound inside.

Stopping abruptly as the door cycled shut, Hound looked at him with clear worry, his optic ridge furrowed. "I'm so sorry. You were dying, we were under attack, and I was running out of field supplies, so I just—"

Mirage released his hand and put one finger over Hound's lips. "I understand, I promise. The question is whether this is going to work or not. We might as well determine that right away."

"How?" Hound was clearly baffled.

"Like this." Mirage stepped forward, leaning into Hound and bringing their lips together. Although he wasn't the kind to challenge the status quo in what few real friendships he had, he'd always imagined that kissing Hound would be arousing.

He wasn't disappointed.

After a moment's hesitation, Hound returned the kiss, meeting pressure for pressure, and when Mirage passed his glossa over his lips, Hound parted them immediately, letting Mirage dip into his mouth and rub their glossae together. Moaning into the kiss, Hound wrapped both arms around Mirage, one about his waist and the other his back, pulling him close. Mirage sighed in relief, having forgotten how good kissing could feel, and wrapped both arms around Hound's neck, effectively capturing him. He could feel the passion building in Hound, and to his surprise, he felt a separate but equally powerful desire surge through his own circuits. When Hound took control of the kiss, sliding his glossa into Mirage's mouth instead, Mirage moaned deeply and pressed harder against Hound's chassis.

Realizing they'd best stop before things got out of control, Mirage broke away and gasped. "I-I see." He met Hound's gaze, noting his optics were nearly indigo with desire. "I think this is workable."

"You say that so factually!" Hound laughed, his remaining tension apparently dissipated by his amusement.

Mirage shrugged. "We were either attracted to each other or not. It's really rather straightforward."

Shaking his head, Hound smiled. "You sound almost like you're piecing together some plan for espionage."

"I think you are the one who slipped in on me." Mirage smiled in return. "You did remarkably well at hiding your feelings, although I admit on occasion I did wonder."

Hound gave him a shy smile. "I didn't want to hurt our friendship, and I didn't think you'd look at me that way."

"Then I think you're not aware of your charms." Mirage took his hand again and led him over to the couch, where they sat side-by-side. When Hound seemed nervous once more, Mirage curled up against him and was rewarded with a warm embrace.

"I admit I was terrified," Hound whispered. "It wasn't like I had your permission to do that."

Mirage shrugged. "In a way, this is relief. My creators never understood why I rarely dated, but for the longest time I was too focused on my education to even consider it." He paused, something tugging on his processor, almost as though he were leaving something out. Confused, he shrugged it away. "Then, when I did begin dating, I found myself surrounded by flirting games I never really understood. It seemed foolishly complicated and idiosyncratic." He paused, remembering the endless boring parties with small talk, fake laughter, and fancy-shaped energon goodies. "I liked going to museums or art galleries with my friends, and as you well know, I loved active things like turbofox hunting. But the parties and socializing got old quickly. It was basically just an exercise in vicious gossip and a spark-bond market."

"Sounds terribly formulaic and restrictive." Hound chuckled and began rubbing Mirage's back in slow strokes.

"It was. My creators were constantly shoving femmes and mechs at me, or trying to shove me at them: 'He's from the most prestigious family among us, so you should give him careful consideration,' or 'She's the sole heiress of her family, so you couldn't find a better match.'" Mirage snorted, sickened by the memories. "Primus! It was disgusting. I may not be a romantic, but I know one thing for sure: you have to have something in common with your mate. You have to enjoy each other's company, share interests, and respect each other. Most of those fools didn't have a single _real_ thought in their processors! Oh, sure, they could regurgitate critiques of the latest collection at the art gallery or engage in superficial conversation about politics or philosophy. But I could tell they were shallow, dull, and boring."

"And I'm not?" Hound grinned at him.

"Far from it." Mirage leaned in, kissing him briefly. "You actually have a fine appreciation for art. And even though I don't share your love of organic worlds, at least you're impassioned by it. You connect with it deeply, just like you support the Autobot cause deeply." He smirked, stung by his recent run-in with Cliffjumper. "Although a few among us may begin to wonder if you're a traitor now that you've bonded with me."

"Ridiculous." Hound hugged him closer. "Your desire to return to Cybertron comes directly from your wealth of knowledge on her history and culture. You love our homeworld, and that's the whole reason you despised the 'Cons enough to join us despite hating fighting. The 'Cons were and are destroying what you value most."

Mirage rested his head on Hound's shoulder and smiled. "You see? This is why I said if I were going to end up bonded to someone, I'm glad it was you. You understand me, and you don't play silly social games."

Hound reached out with one finger and caressed his face, tracing his cheek seam. "I'm glad you feel that way. I wouldn't have been able to stand it if you'd resented me for this."

"Never." Mirage smiled up at his impromptu bondmate, feeling like he'd cleared a major life hurdle to be spark-bonded to someone so fitting.

oOoOo

Hound glanced around the rec room, amused and complimented that his friends had insisted on throwing a reception for his spark bonding with Mirage. Mirage stood at his side, holding his hand and looking at the banner, streamers, and energon.

"This is an odd reception," Mirage whispered.

"Apparently this is an Earth-style one," Hound replied, squeezing his hand. Hand-holding was the only form of public affection Mirage engaged in, but given his own physically affectionate tendencies, Hound was glad to even get that much. As for their private time, they'd spent the entire three orns of their 'vacation' adjusting to the bond but hadn't tried interfacing yet. Hound was glad they were going slow and giving themselves time _to_ adjust, but he felt an excitement-twinged nervousness at the thought of finally making love to Mirage.

Carly stood in the far corner with Spike and Sparkplug, both of whom looked traumatized. Hound knew Ratchet had tried to explain the way Cybertronian Bonds worked, as well as sparklings since Bluestreak was carrying. The two males still seemed shell-shocked by the discovery that their robotic friends weren't like humans. Carly, though, had adjusted better and was blowing up multi-colored helium balloons and releasing them to float around the ceiling.

"We may be having more of these parties soon," Mirage said, nodding to the corner opposite the humans, where Bluestreak was flirting with Wheeljack and Sideswipe was hanging on every word Ratchet said.

Hound chuckled. "I suspect you're right."

Optimus Prime walked to the center of the floor and motioned for silence. "Despite beginning with unusual circumstances, a new spark bond has been formed among us—one that will not and cannot be broken. Hound and Mirage have united together and will remain together till all are one!"

"Till all are one!" the crowd echoed, cheering and clapping.

Optimus turned to face Hound and Mirage. "Congratulations, you two. Please receive our blessings. We wish you a bright future."

"Thank you," Hound answered for them both, smiling at his friends and compatriots. "And we also thank you for the party."

"No problem, man," Jazz replied.

Blaster stepped forward. "In fact, let's get this thing started!" He triggered the music, and everyone whooped before helping themselves to mid- or high-grade energon.

"Any excuse for a party," Mirage whispered.

Hound could feel his amusement through their bond. "Of course!"

Mirage laughed and pulled Hound into the middle of the room, where other couples or friends were dancing. Hound embraced him, holding him closely as they swayed to the music.

"It's truly not strange anymore," Mirage said, smiling at him.

"What isn't?"

"Being able to access your feelings." Mirage wrapped his arms around his neck. "I can feel your happiness, and not only does it make me happy, it reminds me I'm not alone."

Hound sneaked a quick kiss. "Same with me. I feel more in harmony with the universe than ever."

"Hopeless romantic." Mirage returned the kiss.

"Is that a complaint?"

"No." Mirage rested his head on his shoulder and relaxed into his arms as they danced. Hound tightened his embrace, loving the feel of Mirage's warm body in his arms, and he imagined how wonderful it would be to awaken each orn with Mirage at his side. He also began to imagine what it would feel like to run his hands over Mirage's chassis and bring him pleasure.

Apparently intercepting the direction of Hound's thoughts, Mirage straightened and gave him a quirky grin. "Something tells me we won't be staying for the entire party."

Hound laughed, but Mirage's prediction proved true. They only lasted another joor before slipping away and heading back to their quarters. As soon as they locked the door, they shared a long kiss, then Mirage pulled away, sauntering toward the berth and showing off his elegant, long-legged frame.

"So, what do you want to do?" Mirage asked, turning and giving Hound a teasing smile. "What kind of dirty fantasies have you had running through your processor?"

Hound grinned. He had imagined plenty of things about Mirage, but he wasn't sure he'd call any of them 'dirty.' A few of them were kinky, perhaps, but not dirty. "Well . . ." He paused, mostly just wanting to run his hands over Mirage's graceful body, mapping out his sensitive spots and making him moan.

"Do you want to truss me up?" Mirage whipped a pair of magnetic handcuffs from his subspace. "Make me beg? Or maybe punish me?"

Hound stared at him, taken aback. "Er, that's okay. I, uh, was in the mood for something a bit more basic the first time." _I never imagined he would be into all that!_

Mirage looked bemused, and Hound tapped their tentative bond to double-check. Sure enough, Mirage was confused. "If you like. But you can't shock me with your fantasies, I promise." His smile returned.

Disturbed, Hound shook his head, wondering if maybe they were moving too fast after all. "No, really. Basic is good." He could feel the pulse of desire and anticipation from Mirage and responded to it willingly. His voice dropped, becoming husky. "Really, I just want to pleasure you."

With a shiver, Mirage tossed aside the magnacuffs, glided over to him, and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. "I can go for that."

Feeling relieved and back on familiar ground, Hound wrapped his arms around Mirage's waist, pulling him close. "Good." He captured Mirage in another kiss, slipping his glossa into his mouth.

Mirage moaned faintly and tugged on Hound, moving them back toward the berth. When they were close enough, Hound toppled them over, settling between Mirage's legs. Mirage immediately wrapped his legs around his waist, pressing them together as they resumed kissing and running his hands over Hound's back, triggering sensory nodes.

With a faint shudder, Hound broke their kiss. "You're as sneaky as those turbofoxes you used to hunt."

Mirage laughed, an utterly beautiful sound, only to gasp as Hound kissed down his neck, then licked up one cable.

Baring his neck further, Mirage moaned. "Bite me."

Hound nipped the cable, then ran his glossa up the length of it again, mesmerized by the mech under him. Mirage arched against him, moaning louder.

"Harder," Mirage growled.

Slightly uncomfortable but willing to comply, Hound bit the cable, careful not to puncture it. Mirage yelled out, bucking against him.

"_Harder!_" Mirage gripped his shoulders almost desperately.

Uneasy with the request, Hound bit as hard as he dared. Mirage cried out in pleasure, squeezing his shoulders. Not wanting to bite again, Hound continued down his body, running his hands over graceful curves, kissing his chassis, and dipping his fingers into the sensitive transformation seams in Mirage's hips, teasing the wiring there.

"Hound!" Mirage writhed under him. "Skip the teasing. I need you!"

Although disappointed, Hound moved back up Mirage's chassis. "But the teasing's the best part," he whispered, his tone more sultry than he intended.

Mirage shivered. "I know," he said, wrapping his arms around Hound's neck, "but right now I just want you to take me. Hard."

Puzzled but also wanting to please, Hound triggered open the interface chamber in his abdomen. "In that case, expect payback tomorrow."

"I look forward to it." Mirage grinned and triggered open his abdominal interface chamber, also.

When Mirage didn't make any further move, Hound eased out their interface cables and plugged them into each other, making them both groan in pleasure as the energy raced between them.

"Hound!" Mirage arched under him, rubbing their chassis together.

Unable to hold back any longer, Hound released a surge of electricity through their connection, flushing their circuits with heat. At the same time, their systems synchronized, allowing Hound to feel Mirage's raw need and passion. The energy surged between them in a feedback loop, making them cry out.

"Mirage," Hound moaned into his audio, overwhelmed by the sensation of finally being connected to the one he loved.

Shivering again, Mirage ran his hands down his back. "More!"

Happy to comply, Hound sent a deep burn of energy to Mirage and yelled as it was fed back to him, increasing his pleasure until static flitted through his processor. But under the current of their passion, Hound could feel Mirage reaching for something more, as though he were just shy of overloading but couldn't topple over the edge.

"What do you need?" Hound asked, his tone raspy with desire.

"Hit me."

"_What?_" Hound's shock took the edge off his desire. "I'm not going to hit you!"

Mirage clawed his shoulders in desperate need. "Please, Hound. I can't overload without it!"

Hound had never heard of such a thing. "You can't overload without pain?"

Nodding, Mirage gasped. "Please, Hound." His optics flickered offline. "_Please._ I need it."

Unsure what to do and feeling nauseated, Hound hesitated. _There's no way I can bring myself to hit him, but — but he's getting ready to lose his overload! I don't want to fail him._ Frantic for another alternative, Hound pushed his fingers into Mirage's hip joints and brutally pinched the sensitive wires there.

With a scream that sounded like half-pleasure, half-pain, Mirage overloaded instantly, his entire back arching off the berth. He gasped ruggedly, then screamed a second time, this time clearly in pleasure as faint surges of electricity danced along his joints. Then he collapsed on the berth, smiling and panting through his intakes.

Hound's horror had jerked his systems out of synch, however, and he didn't overload. He simply held Mirage and listened as both their cooling fans kicked on.

Mirage seemed too dazed to notice the problem. "That was . . . wonderful." He kissed Hound before offlining, the smile still on his face.

Hound stared down at his bondmate, feeling ill. _Something is terribly wrong here,_ he thought. _I know some 'bots can get feisty, but this counts as abuse! And it's especially odd for someone who has made it all too evident that he hates to fight._ For a moment, Hound thought he might purge his tanks. He lowered his head, resting it against Mirage's chassis and listening to the purr of his recharging systems. "I have to get this figured out," he whispered to the unconscious mech. "I can't live my life hurting you."


	2. Courage to Heal?

"_Healing takes courage, and we all have courage,  
even if we have to dig a little to find it."  
--Tori Amos_

_**Chapter 2: Courage to Heal?**_

The following morning, Hound went straight to the medbay, having traded shifts with his friend Trailbreaker, who was stir-crazy from being in medbay too long. Ratchet and his patient, Bluestreak, both glanced up as the doors hissed open.

"Good morning!" Bluestreak smiled at him.

Forcing himself to return the smile, Hound found he was genuinely glad to see Bluestreak so upbeat, considering his breakup with Sunstreaker and being a carrier. "Good morning."

"I can't say I'm surprised to see you," Ratchet said, lowering the scanner he'd been running over Bluestreak's spark chamber. "Wait in my office until I'm done checking Bluestreak's sparkling."

Hound nodded and retreated to the office, taking a seat and staring around the room, which was neat and tidy: an organized stack of datapads sat in the In and Out trays, a file on sparklings was open on the computer terminal, and a half-consumed cube of energon sat on the otherwise pristine desk. That was Ratchet: efficient, temperamental, and fortunately for Hound, widely knowledgeable.

Ratchet entered the office, triggering the door to slide shut behind him. "What can I do for you?" He sat at his desk and retrieved his energon, sipping it.

Gathering his nerve, Hound spoke. "This has to remain purely confidential, but I really need your advice."

Ratchet nodded. "How confidential are we talking here?"

"Form Alpha 9 confidential." Hound frowned, remembering trying to explain to Sparkplug the differences in human versus Cybertronian patient-doctor confidentially and failing miserably. He couldn't risk not being clear enough with Ratchet, though. "Not even Optimus Prime needs to learn what we discussed, no matter what issues arise."

Hesitating, Ratchet sighed through his intakes and pulled a new datapad from his desk drawer. "All right. You've got it." He filled out and signed the form on the pad, then handed it over.

Hound read over the Alpha 9 contract then signed it. "Okay." He handed it back and decided to be blunt. "What does it mean when your lover asks you to hit him during interfacing and tells you he can't overload unless you do?"

Ratchet froze momentarily, staring at him a klik before setting down the datapad. "Past trauma associated with interfacing, usually." He grimaced. "This is serious, and I don't think I need to tell you how much. Everyone's interfacing has a certain 'style', and even then it'll vary with their mood. But to _require_ a beating in order to overload suggests . . ." He trailed off, rubbing his temples with his fingers as though he had a processor ache. "It suggests ingrained, conditioned behavior. Everyone has fantasies, and many 'bots like to try little games or role-playing. But this is something entirely different."

Nodding, Hound slumped in his chair. "I was afraid you'd say that. What do I do?"

Ratchet leaned forward, pressing his hands against his desk. "First of all, _don't_ comply. Whatever you do, don't hit him, even if it means he doesn't overload. He needs to learn that interfacing should not be abusive, and if you do as he asks, he'll unconsciously begin to identify you with his past abuser."

"I don't think I could do it, anyway." Hound sank his face into his hands. "I love him. Always have. I don't want to hurt him."

"Good." Ratchet paused. "Look, we don't have any trained psychologists on base, as you well know. Smokescreen, Prowl and Trailbreaker all had to complete psychology courses as strategists, but they don't have the knowledge necessary to treat someone. And what Mirage really needs is treatment."

Hound glanced up. "So what can we do?"

"You'll have to work with him." Ratchet shook his head. "Earn his trust, see if he'll talk to you about this. Whatever you do, don't corner him or tell him he's sick. He'll just pull away from you or lash out at you. And he's not sick, he's _hurt._"

"Yeah," Hound whispered, saddened that his bondmate had been subjected to such cruelty.

Ratchet folded his arms over his chassis. "You also have to consider the possibility that his abuser had his memory banks erased. That wouldn't cancel the conditioned behavior, but it would keep him from remembering the cause of it."

"_What?_" Hound felt his circuits surge in horror.

Turning his stare upon his energon cube, Ratchet frowned. "I know. It sounds like something only the 'Cons would be capable of, but I suspect this happened before the Great War. And it still didn't have to be a 'Con or a future 'Con."

Hound shuddered. "I'm not sure I want to know any of this." He wrapped his arms across his abdomen, hugging himself. "Okay. Assuming he remembers and will talk about it, then what?"

Ratchet met his gaze. "You'll have to help him associate interfacing with trust and love."

"Now I wish I'd gone to the Academy and taken psychology courses." Hound let his head fall against the back of the chair.

"Well, I have one more suggestion," Ratchet said. "For better insight, you'd best talk to Wheeljack. His unsurpassed genius in building protoforms scored him clients in the Towers. Of all of us, he's the only one here with inside knowledge into the kind of 'bots Mirage came from."

"You want me to tell 'Jack all this, too?" Hound frowned, uncomfortable. He knew Wheeljack would sign the Alpha 9 form, but he really didn't want to advertise Mirage's personal business.

"No," Ratchet replied. "Just ask him about Towers 'bots." He activated his computer's comm. link. ::Ratchet to Wheeljack. Report to my office.::

::Acknowledged! On my way.::

Hound waited, tense, until Wheeljack arrived.

When he entered the room, Wheeljack looked between Ratchet and Hound. "You two look grim. What's wrong?"

Hound sucked a deep draught of air through his intakes. "I need you to tell me what you know about Towers 'bots. There are some things about Mirage I don't quite understand."

"Oh." Wheeljack shook his head. "They were a breed all their own. As aloof and snotty as the rumors said, I assure you. I didn't know Mirage personally until he joined the Autobots, but I did meet him once. Before the war, I was building his younger sister's protoform for his genitors."

Hound straightened. He hadn't expected to be this lucky. "Really? What were they like?"

"Arrogant." Wheeljack snorted. "If I wasn't talking sparkling designs, they wouldn't acknowledge my existence." He laughed and shrugged. "Not that I expected anything different, of course. I remember their penthouse, though. Beautiful design, all white and silver, but it felt cold, like a hospital."

Hound wasn't surprised. "Pristine and perfect and filled with expensive gadgets, I'm sure."

"Of course," Wheeljack replied. "I remember meeting Mirage, too. I took one look at him and knew he had top specs, and after he left, I asked his genitors who the designer had been. They were more than happy to brag about having hired Silverfire to build Mirage's protoform and to give him his adult upgrades. I admit I was impressed. I'd studied Silverfire's work at the Academy." He took a seat in the other office chair, making himself comfortable. "As for Mirage . . . well, his demeanor was far stiffer than it is now. When we were introduced, it was almost like he wasn't really there. It struck me as odd. So odd that I've remembered it this whole time."

"Like he wasn't really there?" Hound prompted, trading a look with Ratchet. He wasn't sure what it meant, but it seemed significant to him.

"Yeah." Wheeljack glanced between them again. "Why? Is he being distant with you?" He held up his hand suddenly. "Wait. Don't answer that."

"You'll have to sign a confidentiality form if you want to ask questions," Ratchet said.

"I figured as much." Wheeljack paused. "Well, let's see what else I can remember." He fingered the bottom of his blast mask, over his chin. "I remember that Mirage was only there for a visit, and he didn't say much. He and his personal tutor had just returned from hunting turbofoxes. They hauled in quite a collection, too. I think the tutor's designation was Nightrazor or Skyrazor or something like that. Don't remember much about him except he gave me the creeps. He made a pass at me out in the hallway after I left, and it made my paint crawl."

Hound nearly jumped out of his chair. "He made a _pass_ at you?"

Wheeljack nodded. "Yeah. I'd thought the nobles were trained to have better manners, but he was crude."

A picture was forming in Hound's processor, and he didn't like what it was telling him. "I think I'm disturbed enough for one orn. Thank you, 'Jack. I won't interrupt your work any longer. You're building a protoform for Bluestreak's sparkling, right?"

"Yep!" Wheeljack stood, a clear bounce in his step. "Funny that you'd ask about Towers mechs, really." He hesitated, his tone growing quiet. "Actually, I never finished Mirage's younger sister. The Towers went down, killing Mirage's genitors, and I joined the Autobots shortly thereafter. Afterwards, I learned Mirage had been out with his tutor that day, and that's why he was one of the few nobles to survive the attack."

"Oh." Hound frowned, pondering that revelation.

"Thank you," Ratchet said.

"No problem. I hope it helped." Wheeljack exited the office.

Hound found himself swamped in dark thoughts.

"It wasn't _necessarily_ the tutor," Ratchet said, randomly pushing his empty energon cube across his desk. "Sounds like it could have been, though."

Hound nodded and stood. "I'll try to think of a tactful way of asking Mirage about it."

"Sometimes 'bots blame themselves for ending up in situations like that even though it's not their fault." Ratchet stood as well. "He may get defensive or afraid. You need to be very careful. Love alone can't fix this. Mirage has to _want_ to be healed, and it'll be a long-term recovery."

"I understand. Thanks, Ratchet." Hound left the medbay, feeling determined. _Good scouts aren't accidents,_ he thought to himself, remembering his mentor's old adages. _Doing my job well means I have to be relentless and patient, so I'll just use both those traits to help Mirage._

_Assuming Mirage will let me._

oOoOo

Mirage awakened, feeling relaxed, and stretched on the berth, easing various pistons and cables. The previous night filtered back into his memory banks, and he smiled. Hound was his bondmate, and said bondmate had given him an excellent overload. He rolled over, glancing around the room and expecting to see Hound, but he was alone. Disturbed, he sat up, then spied the energon cube awaiting him on the nightstand.

Touched at the gesture, Mirage smiled again and checked his chronometer. 0917 hours base time. Hound had likely been up a good two joors and was already out on patrol. Mirage wasn't due on shift until 1200 hours, however, and had plenty of time to drink his breakfast, take a trip to the washracks, and—

Halting abruptly, hand only halfway to the energon cube, Mirage found his processor stuck on the end of his memory file. _He_ had overloaded, but Hound hadn't. "Blast." Mirage jerked up the cube and took a swig. "That was terribly rude of me! I should have pulled on his systems until he went with me, or at least seen to it after my systems calmed down." He stood, carrying the cube with him, and walked around the cabin. They'd moved all of Hound's possessions into his quarters and found places for most everything, but one box remained. Mirage knelt by the box and began unpacking it as his thoughts raced. _Why didn't he overload? He seemed quite aroused. Wait, he got very uncomfortable when I asked him to . . . hit me. Is that why he didn't overload?_ Mirage snorted, suddenly finding it unlikely that anyone could fail to overload over such a simple reason. _It's not like it's that unusual,_ he thought with a flash of anger. _And they all secretly like it, whether they want to admit it openly or not._

His thoughts intensified his rage, however, and as he pulled various keepsakes from the box, he thumped them on the floor. "More 'facing games?" he hissed. He'd given up on the concept of not talking to himself when he was a sparkling. Sometimes people walked in on it, but he'd grown up basically alone and found he needed to break the oppressive silence around him. "Why does everything have to be a slaggin' game? Perverted glitches. They might as well be forthright about it." Immediately his thoughts changed directions, almost running over each other. "Besides, it's just a little rough play. He shouldn't have freaked out so much. Everyone has a kinky quirk or two."

He paused his rant when he reached the bottom of the box and found a holophoto displayer. It wasn't as nearly high-quality as the one that Mirage had on his wall, but it was still nice. Mirage eyed the walls, picked out a suitable location, and set about mounting it. "Are you really like the rest?" he whispered to the absent Hound. "You've always seemed so kind and honest. I . . . I just don't know." Saddened by the turn of his thoughts, Mirage tried to push them away. He flipped on the holophoto displayer and stepped back, gazing at scenes of Earth's majestic oceans, the color of Mirage's own paint; sprawling deserts, sands glowing crimson in the sunset; and regal mountains, peaks obscured by snow and clouds.

Reaching out to caress the frame's edge, Mirage exhaled heavily. "You're such a romantic, Hound. Is it possible for a mech to love too much?" He dropped his hand and stared at the floor. _Even if it is, no one will truly love me. He's attracted to me, and we enjoy each other's company. It's the best case scenario I never dared to hope for._

Unsettled and wishing Hound weren't on patrol, Mirage left the room's stifling silence and headed for the washracks.

oOoOo

Having gotten off patrol before Mirage finished his shift, Hound retired to their quarters, two energon cubes in hand, and took up residence on the couch, where he watched the images scroll across his holophoto. Touched that Mirage had hung it up for him, he smiled to himself, only to have dark thoughts and anxiety steal it away.

_How am I going to broach this subject with him?_ Hound wondered, setting the cubes on the end table and then staring at the image of the Rocky Mountains. _How should I phrase it? Will Mirage be angry? Defensive?_ He picked at his knee joint with two fingers, unable to contain his nervousness. _This isn't exactly a topic I know much about, and even two mechs with the same experiences probably react differently when questioned about it._

Beeping announced Mirage's arrival as their lock code was entered, then the doors hissed open. Hound glanced over his shoulder, watching the lithe, long-limbed frame approach him. Bright optics gazed his way, and Hound stared at Mirage's fine-featured face, feeling enraged that anyone could have abused him, especially so cruelly.

Mirage settled on the couch beside him. "You're disturbed." He frowned. "I can feel it."

Hound gave him a small smile, but he felt Mirage's nervousness over their bond. "So are you."

"Is it because I didn't get you to overload last night?" Mirage stared at his hands. "I'm terribly sorry. It was rude and unforgiveable, and I promise I won't fail you like that again. I—"

"Whoa!" Hound wrapped one arm around his bondmate and pulled him close. He didn't like the sound of where that sentence had been headed. "It was a total accident, and I'm hardly angry about it. Don't you think I'd take it as a compliment that I offlined you?"

Mirage leaned against him, resting his head on his shoulder. "I didn't pull you over the edge with me."

"That's . . . complicated." Hound kissed Mirage's helm. "Look, despite all the ideals of romantic poetry and literature, I'm no youngling, and I know simultaneous overloads are not guaranteed. It takes a perfect systems synchronization or a spark-merging to do that. And we don't have to simultaneously overload together every time for me to be happy or consider our interfacing successful."

Mirage sighed. "I still should have seen to your pleasure."

Wondering if Mirage was simply well-mannered or was manifesting some belief instilled in him by his abuse, Hound took his hand and squeezed it. "It's fine. Really. We can interface again tonight if you like. You can even see to me first." Even as he said the words, he had to hide a frown, wondering if some of the problem could have been circumvented if they hadn't jumped into interfacing so quickly.

"All right." Mirage seemed to faintly relax.

Hound couldn't bring himself to do the same. "Can I ask you a question first?"

A long pause. "Sure."

"Why did you need me to hurt you?" Hound kept his voice calm and quiet, pitching it to sound like mere curiosity.

Mirage sat up and pulled away. "Oh, it's just this quirk of mine." He smiled and shrugged.

Hound could tell through their bond that the smile was fake. _He's getting uncomfortable, but I can't pretend it's not a problem._ "But you can't overload without the pain?" Some genuine confusion slipped into his tone.

Standing, Mirage gestured toward the berth. "I take it you didn't do anything kinky with your past partners." He waved a hand through the air. "Don't worry about it. It's nothing, really."

_Totally in denial,_ Hound thought. _What do I do now?_

Mirage held out his hand. "Come on. I owe you one."

"You 'owe' me? I'm hardly keeping count!" Hound took his hand anyway, and Mirage pulled him to his feet.

"I'm not, either." Mirage led him to their berth. "But I do feel bad about last night."

"Well, don't." Hound stopped by the berth and wrapped his arms around Mirage's waist. Hoping that he could figure it out as he went, he leaned forward and kissed Mirage, nibbling his lower lip before slipping his glossa into his mouth. Mirage moaned and returned the kiss, running his arms around his neck.

After several kliks, Mirage pulled away and grinned. "So, what would you like?"

"What would I like?" Hound could think of several things he'd like, one of them being to never be asked to hurt his bondmate again.

"Yes." Mirage laughed quietly. "What do you want me to do for you?"

Hound pondered the question—both why Mirage asked it that way and what his answer should be. "Well, before it's all said and done, I'd really like to spark merge with you. You weren't exactly conscious the first time we shared energy, so—"

Mirage stiffened. "I'm not ready for that." He paused, clearly upset. "I mean, I realize we're bonded, but this is all still very new. I'd like to wait."

Feeling something akin to fear radiating from Mirage, Hound held back a curse. Not only did he truly wish to become one essence with Mirage, he also knew that a merge would enable them to understand each other better. Still, he wasn't the type to push himself on people. "Okay."

"I _will_ bring you pleasure, though." Mirage smiled again, a smile Hound quickly realized was an act, and guided him to lie on his back. Once Hound was settled, Mirage climbed on top of him. "Tell me what feels good," he whispered, kissing his way down Hound's neck.

Hound forced himself to relax, not wanting to over-complicate the situation. He bared his neck further, loving the feel of Mirage's lips on him. "That does."

Mirage chuckled and continued downward, licking the transformation seam in Hound's chest. Hound gasped, enraptured by the feel of that glossa on his body, then gasped louder as Mirage slipped his fingers into the seams on his hips and stimulated the wires there. Then Mirage slid down his body and licked the cover of his interface chamber, teasing the edges with his glossa, and Hound was reduced to helpless moans.

"M-mirage!" He arched his hips, wanting nothing more than a deeper connection.

"Do you like it?" Mirage whispered, then teased the chamber door until it popped open, revealing Hound's port and cable. "Do you want me to jack into you?" He slipped a finger in, caressing the port.

Hound cried out, overcome by the sensations mixed with Mirage's dirty talk. "Y-yes!"

Shifting his position, Mirage straddled his upper legs again, slipping his cord into Hound before removing Hound's cord and connecting it to himself. A surge of electricity passed between them, making them both moan. A feedback loop established, they quickly traded data and energy, building pleasure between them.

Mirage began to squirm. "H-hound? I know you think it's odd, but I really do need you to hit me."

In an instant, Hound was ripped from his passionate daze, his arousal replaced by horror. "No!"

"Just work with me here." Mirage leaned forward, gripping his shoulders. "I'm going to lose my overload!"

"I'm not going to do it." Hound conveyed his determination over their uplink. "Punching is reserved for the battlefield, not interfacing."

"Fine!" Mirage radiated frustration. "It doesn't have to be a punch."

Hound felt a deep sense of unease settle over him. "I'm not going to hurt you. We'll find another way to help you overload."

Mirage growled and climbed off the berth, jerking their interface cords free of one another in the process. "Why are you being so stubborn about this!"

After pausing for a moment as his systems readjusted, Hound sat up. "Because it's abusive, and I'm not going to spend my life hurting you."

Mirage snarled in rage, then began coiling his interface cable and returning it to his chamber. "You just can't stand a little kink, can you? Given that you're a scout, I would have never imagined you'd be so resistant to a bit of 'exploration.'"

"Not when it involves punching my bondmate!" Hound coiled up his cord as well, stowing it. "Mirage, let's just be honest here. Something's hurting you."

"Yes. Your refusal to overload me."

"No, I mean _someone_ hurt you in the past." Hound stood and held out both his hands in supplication.

Mirage glared at him. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I don't?" Hound knew he was screwing it all up, but he couldn't seem to find the right words. "Sexual trauma? Forced 'facing? Someone who made you associate abuse with—"

"Shut up!" Mirage clenched both fists, his voice quickly escalating into a yell. "Shut up and get out!"

"No." Hound crossed his arms. "I'm not going to pretend like this is not happening."

"I said _get out!_" Mirage pointed at the door.

Hound shook his head, his spark aching from both their pain. "We have to deal with this."

"Fine. I'll leave." Mirage turned and stalked out, leaving Hound standing in the middle of the cabin.

Hound could feel Mirage's fury and fear over their bond. With a deep sigh, he wandered over to the couch and collapsed, burying his face in his hands.

"That couldn't have gone any worse," he moaned. "What have I done? I've destroyed my relationship with Mirage before it's really begun."

* * *

_Postscript: Thank you to the following for their wonderful reviews: Kookaburra, Crossfire1205, Nightwind, misswildfire, Shirox, OrianPrime92, Apocrypha Blessing, The Transdresser, Niveas, and CuriousDreamWeaver._


	3. Fighting Suffering

_Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it.  
-- Helen Keller_

_**Chapter 3: Fighting Suffering**_

Awakening from recharge, Mirage glared at the engine room's ceiling and sat up. The rock-strewn area never saw visitors anymore, being the one place on the ship they had no more use for. Stalagmites and stalactites pierced the floor and ceiling, undisturbed for millions of stellar cycles, and glass fragments from broken monitors covered the computer terminals. The engines themselves had long since rusted, and the staircase and walkway railings were both rusted and bent. Not even security cameras existed here, although Red Alert would no doubt correct that at some point. Until then, however, the room remained Mirage's favorite hiding place. Not even Hound knew about this spot.

A fact for which Mirage was supremely grateful.

"What was all that about?" Standing up, he paced the floor, finding that recharge had not lessened his sense of betrayal. He'd never imagined Hound would be so judgmental. "Don't tell me he's going to pretend that those fairytale fantasies about romance and interfacing are actually _true!_" Angered by his thoughts, he punched one of the few unbroken monitors as he passed the console and took great satisfaction in hearing it shatter. Glittering shards flew in all directions, raining onto the metal deckplates with soft _clinking_ sounds. Mirage decided the sight was not unlike his now-destroyed perception of Hound. "It's just an elaborate game," he hissed at the walls. To himself. "Everyone's a user. Everyone. They won't always admit it, but secretly it's there. What's so wrong with me? At least _I_ care if my partner overloads or not!"

Enraged, Mirage stomped from the room. "Where did Hound even get all that slag about abuse and trauma and rape?" he muttered to himself. It wasn't exactly a topic he could imagine Hound being familiar with. "To just go off and assume that—"

He halted in the middle of the hallway, staring at the empty corridors. The words didn't sound like Hound's, but they did sound like someone else's. "Ratchet!" He clenched his fists at his sides, feeling further betrayed, and engaged his electro-disrupter, heading for the medbay.

As Mirage stalked through the base, he dodged the minibots on their way to breakfast as well as Prowl and Jazz emerging from their quarters to head to work. He was invisible, and he wanted to remain that way. He certainly didn't want to talk to anyone, especially the overly perceptive Jazz. Jazz paused as Mirage slipped past him, looking up, but with the visor to cover his optics, it was unclear if he sensed him or not. Mirage sometimes wondered if Jazz had a way of 'seeing' him when others couldn't.

Fortunately, Jazz continued on his way, leaving Mirage to sneak into medbay unnoticed and enter Ratchet's office before he decloaked. The CMO looked quite official carrying his stack of datapads across the office to his desk. Having his back toward the door, however, he didn't see Mirage become visible.

"We need to talk," Mirage stated immediately, his tone grim.

Ratchet yelped and whirled around, dropping half his datapads on the floor. "Mirage! Primus, don't sneak up on me like that."

Not deigning to reply, Mirage slapped the door controls, triggering the door to slide shut. "Given Hound's bizarre speech last night, I can only assume he ran to you yesterday morning instead of staying and speaking with me."

Pausing, Ratchet left his fallen datapads on the floor and set the rest on his desk. "You mean the same way you're confronting me instead of Hound? Yes, I'd have to say that's true."

Mirage hesitated, knocked off-guard, then snorted, allowing a bitter smile to upturn the corners of his mouth. "As the humans say, _touché_." He crossed his arms. "That admitted, what did you say to him?" A horrifying thought raced through his processor. "And with whom did you share my business?"

Holding up both hands, Ratchet frowned. "Hound made me sign an Alpha 9 confidentiality form before we even began. I haven't told anyone."

"At least he was considerate enough to do that." Mirage smirked and dropped into the chair. "Now what's all this drivel about abuse, trauma, and rape?"

Ratchet raised one optic ridge and sat in his desk chair. "Do you really want to know? Because you're very likely not going to like the answer."

"Yes." Mirage suspected Ratchet was correct about his not liking it, but he had an overwhelming need to know his reasoning. He wasn't sure he could figure out what had happened any other way.

Ratchet leaned back in his chair and cocked his head, clearly watching Mirage closely. "Very well." He didn't consult his records, which somehow seemed ominous. "You have trouble staying in relationships, hide a low self-esteem behind a false arrogant demeanor, and suffer from depression. You also demonstrate inability to trust others, exhibit obsessive-compulsive behavior, complain of insomnia, and have attempted suicide once. In addition, you suffer inexplicable mood swings, were unusually sexually promiscuous before our arrival on Earth, and apparently have an inability to overload without physical pain."

Finding himself too shocked to speak, Mirage gaped momentarily, then stood up, outraged. "What is this? Some obsessive psychoanalysis of me? What gives you the right!"

"I've been studying you since you first joined the Autobots." Ratchet's gaze never faltered, and his voice remained calm. "I was ordered to, even, just like I'm ordered to keep an eye on all those who have lost their entire families, cities, and previous lives."

Mirage grasped for words. Unfortunately, Ratchet's explanation was logical and sound. More that than, Mirage knew that Ratchet had, indeed, been ordered to watch Bluestreak in just such a manner. He'd accidentally overheard Prime giving the order. "Fair enough." He stopped, replaying the list from his memory bank, and although he wanted to protest a few items, he realized he couldn't sufficiently lie to himself about the truth of the matter. "I suppose I can't argue with most of your list. I'm well-known for my 'odd' and 'antisocial' behavior." He frowned. "But none of it necessarily means sexual trauma or rape or whatever you told Hound, and the Autobots aren't much more than a collection of outcasts, badly disguised bullies, and sociopaths."

"Indeed. We're a weird lot, even me. Hence the 'obsessive' watching." Ratchet grinned faintly. "But if you don't deny that your behavior fits my observations, then how can you deny there is some trauma at work?"

Seeing he would get nowhere with his anger, Mirage changed tactics. He sat again, putting on his best fake, polite smile. "But as you noted, you know perfectly well the level of trauma I experienced when the Towers went down. And who hasn't had a few disastrous relationships?"

Ratchet laced his fingers together and rested his hands on his desk. "As you said, fair enough. But over time, your symptoms suggested a specific type of trauma, and not the kind associated with the total loss of one's home and family. Hound's news added another piece to the overall picture." He paused, tapping his hands against the desk. "Humor me, Mirage, and answer a question. How much do you remember of your sparklinghood?"

Inside, a frozen ball of fury dropped into Mirage's tank, but he didn't let his lips so much as twitch. "What? Now we're punishing mechs for trauma? I don't see anyone harassing Bluestreak, and he's barely functional." In truth, he remembered next to nothing about his sparklinghood and only bits of disconnected data from being a youngling. It was as though someone had placed flimsy blocks into his mind that were slowly failing, presenting him randomly with memories he hadn't been able to access before. And when those memories combined with what he'd already known . . .

"Hardly." Ratchet gave him a small smile, the kind he gave critically injured patients. "I'm worried for you and Hound. I really am. What he did was highly unconventional, even if it did save your life. And having watched you, I wondered if you'd trust him. I have to say that I hope you do. Despite his ill-advised method of saving you, he really does love you. That much is blindingly obvious."

Feeling his emotions shut down one-by-one, Mirage sighed and let his shoulders slump. "You think I'm sick." Statement of fact. "I'm not sick." It seemed crucial, somehow, that he convince Ratchet of that.

"No, you aren't. But you are hurting." Ratchet's voice had grown unusually soft. Kind, even.

_Is Ratchet just patronizing me? I can't tell._ Mirage shook his head and stood. "Look. You're trained to see ill and wounded 'bots. So that's exactly what you see. But the truth is that I'm fine. Everyone has bad experiences. Painful ones. But we all deal. I'm no different than any of the rest of us." He felt exhausted suddenly. Abnormally so, even. It was almost as though he wasn't the only one who was tired. "I don't need any treatment, and I certainly don't need my new bondmate thinking I'm a freak." A surge of fear accompanied those words, and Mirage turned and left the office, slowly growing terrified that if Hound saw him exactly as he was, he would be disgusted and reject him.

Mirage could lie. He could lie to everyone, and he was exceptionally good at it. But he could never pretend within his own mind that his past wasn't shameful. Mirage remembered just enough to know that.

He remembered enough to know he was unlovable.

oOoOo

Convinced Hound would have begun his shift, Mirage returned to his quarters after a long stint in the washracks, scrubbing himself. When he stepped inside and saw Hound sitting on their couch, however, he nearly turned and left the room again. Only the sudden strengthening of their bond, possibly caused by their physical proximity, kept Mirage in place. In fact, he felt glued to the floor, as though the Twins had executed one of their inane jokes on him, and Hound's equally deep exhaustion crashed through him.

Apparently realizing he was no longer alone, Hound glanced over his shoulder and gazed at Mirage. His optics were dim and unfocused and his shoulders slumped. "You . . . finally came back." He turned away again and sank his face into his hands. "I'm so sorry. That came out all wrong, and I hurt you. And the whole point of all this was that I didn't want to hurt you!"

_Leave,_ Mirage's processor whispered to him. _He doesn't really understand you. Not the real you. And he'd be disgusted by the real you, anyway._ He slid one foot backwards toward the door. _No one wants you. Whatever made you think they would?_ He slid the other foot backwards to match the first. Three more steps and he could sprint clear. _Did you really think someone could love a mech like you?_

Mirage halted abruptly, realizing the voice in his mind had warped. It was faint, but the voice didn't sound like his own. It sounded like someone else, a familiar and much-hated someone else, who had always said similar things to him. Mentally growling, he suppressed the voice, fighting against it. "Why didn't you just talk to me first?" he asked.

Hound jerked faintly and dropped his hands. He turned around, meeting Mirage's gaze. "Oh." He sighed, the spark-weary kind Mirage understood too well. "I didn't even think to. I was so surprised, so shocked, so upset I just went to the first mech I could think of who might help." He rubbed his temple with his fingers. "I guess this means you talked to Ratchet."

Hesitating, Mirage finally forced himself to walk over to the couch. He perched on the edge, ready to vacate in an instant. "Yes. After talking with him, I can see why he was confused, I suppose. But that's why you should have talked with me first." _And if you really talked to Hound now, do you think he'd listen? He's already proven he won't._ Mirage frowned. Every thought his processor kicked out at him seemed true, and yet somehow he felt he should be fighting them. Hadn't Hound been his best chance at a bond? He did understand other things, after all, like why Mirage fought with the Autobots and why flirting games were a waste of time.

"I hope you can forgive me for that." Hound's gaze fell to his lap. "I do still want our relationship to work. I still love you. Always will."

Mirage flinched. Somehow it hurt to hear those words now. "Love?" His logical self seemed to war with the one laughing derisively inside. "We normally get along well and enjoy each other's company, but that's a good as these things get." _Truly the most I can hope for, although I may not even get that now._ "You really are a hopeless romantic, Hound, but I know better than to believe in love."

For a moment, unadulterated shock flowed through the bond between them. "What?" Hound finally asked. "You think I'm lying when I say that?" He shook his head. "I'm not lying. I believe in love. I believe that bondmates should have deep love for each other, actually, and work toward a relationship where they equally share responsibilities, burdens, worries, hurts—"

Overcome by his accidental bondmate's naïve idealism, Mirage sudden found himself laughing. He hopped to his feet, walking away a few paces as his laughter died down. "Oh, Hound." His bitter amusement burned in his fuel lines. "How have you managed to cling to such idealism? Are we really going to pretend that bondmates are equal? That any relationship can be equal? Are we going to pretend that interfacing is really about love and soft music and sweet little presents and declaring undying devotion?" Mirage whirled around and sneered. "I woke up from that daydream a _long_ time ago." Unbidden, the face of the mech he wished to forget flashed through his processor. "I'm not twisted, Hound. I'm not sick. I'm just _blunt._ Honest. I see it all as it really is, and I'm not going to pretend it's anything else."

Hound stared at him with the saddest expression he thought he'd ever seen, his frown pronounced. "Mirage . . . please. Please tell me you don't believe all of that."

Mirage snorted. "Are you in that 'honeymoon' stage?" He felt some part of himself screaming, kicking, wanting to destroy Hound's delusions and kill the treacherous ache of hope that threatened to surface in his spark. "The stage where everything is new and wonderful and the couple promises each other all sorts of lovey-dovey things? Well, it's just a stage. Don't you know that?" He clenched his fists at his sides. "It's all a lie. All those promises of love and equality fade away under the pressure of real life." He vaguely realized his voice was rising, but he didn't care. "They stop being sensitive. They stop being considerate. They take each other for granted and only care about their own pleasure, provided they ever really cared in the first place!"

"M-mirage?" Hound reached up one hand, only to let it fall. "I'm not going to be insensitive to you. Not on purpose, at least! And if I am, I want you to tell me at once." He shook his head. "I'm not going to take advantage of you or be inconsiderate or take you for granted. I've loved you a long time, you know."

Mirage sighed and crossed his arms. "I've heard those words before." He looked away, staring at the wall as various faces passed through his memory bank. Every time he'd tried to have a relationship with someone rather than a quick 'facing, it had always turned out the same. _I don't know why I thought it'd be different this time._ "Don't delude yourself." He shook away the memories and turned for the door. "I learned the true nature of the universe at a very early age." He stopped to glance over his shoulder. "And seeing it for what it is, why shouldn't I enjoy what I can about it?" His anger over the previous night returned. "So what if I have to be hit to overload? Everyone hides some secret kink they don't want anyone to know about. Is it so wrong that I'm forthright about mine?"

As though all words had been stolen from his processor, Hound simply stared at him, looking defeated.

Mirage turned to face the door and resumed walking. "Don't talk to me again until you can be realistic about this. You know how I hate games." And with that, he left the room.

oOoOo

Secluded in the forest encompassing the Ark, Hound sat unmoving in a clearing. He'd long since learned that if he remained utterly still and silent, wildlife would eventually emerge and go about their business as though he weren't there. It had been a beautiful experience he enjoyed, and even now a doe led two fawns through the trees. Red-breasted robins, plump with their feasting, chased each other through the air, and a vixen darted from the undergrowth, scaring away the deer. It was the ideal scene that always brought Hound comfort.

Today, however, it was all so much nothing. He might as well have been staring at ashes, he felt so depressed and detached.

All the animals suddenly dashed away, and Hound focused his sensors on his surroundings. Another mech was approaching, his heavy footsteps echoing through the trees and shaking leaves free. After a klik, he recognized Ratchet's unique scent, which was always a combination of various oils and lubricants found in most medbays.

Sure enough, Ratchet appeared between two towering pine trees, gazed at him, and then moved to sit beside him. "Thought I might find you here. You and Mirage still not talking?"

"Five orns, seventeen joors, forty-two kliks, and fifty-six astroseconds," Hound replied promptly. Having not lied to Mirage, he had no way of meeting his 'requirements,' and all attempts at convincing him of his sincere love had been met with blank stares.

Ratchet nodded. "I'd hoped for the best, but I was worried from the very beginning. I'm not any more surprised to find you sulking out here than I was to see you spontaneously show up in medbay that morning."

"He's hurt much worse than I thought." Hound stared at the ground, where Ratchet's footsteps had crushed several small bushes and sprouting trees. "He says he doesn't even believe in love. He's assuming abuse is the natural result of all relationships." He felt guilty for talking with Ratchet again, but since Mirage not listening to him, he had no one else to speak with. "I have no idea what to do." He turned his gaze upon the medic and knew his look had to be imploring. "What happens when love alone isn't enough?"

Ratchet reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "I told you from the very beginning Mirage would have to want to be healed, and I'm not convinced he's admitting to himself there's even a problem. From his point of view, his beliefs and feelings are accurate. Telling him it doesn't have to be that way won't work. He has to decide to fight and take his life back. You can support his efforts, but you can't do it for him."

Feeling hopeless, Hound resumed staring at the destroyed plants. "I would support him if he'd let me. Right now he won't even talk to me."

"Avoiding him won't change that." Ratchet patted his back and stood again. "If you want him to believe in love, then you have to love him exactly as he is now. Use your actions to show him what love is, and you stand a chance of him coming to believe in it. Words, in this case, are likely useless, and actions are far more telling that words in any case. But you can't begin the process unless both of you can accept each other as you are at the moment."

Hound wasn't entirely sure what Ratchet meant. "I thought you told me not to hit him."

"I did. And please don't." Ratchet sighed. "Don't ever do something you're uncomfortable with, especially something that could ultimately hurt Mirage more. But as I told you before, he's not sick. He's hurt. Love the him who is hurt, and you have a good starting point."

Hound supposed it made a weird kind of sense, but the task seemed too huge. Too impossible. "I'm not sure he even wants me to love him," he said, wondering if his presence in Mirage's life was ultimately destructive, just like his presence in the forest clearing always meant the death of the plants crushed under his feet.

oOoOo

Mirage sat in the rec room's corner nursing a cube of high grade and staring at the party around him. Everyone was celebrating Bluestreak's and Wheeljack's new spark-bond, and a modest reception was underway. Since red was the color for luck on Cybertron, Carly and Spike had glued red ribbons to magnets and given them to everyone at the party. Carly herself was wearing a crimson sundress and Spike and Sparkplug red shirts.

Although he'd accepted a ribbon and wore it on his chest, Mirage didn't feel like celebrating. Hound and he had been in a stalemate for orns, neither of them budging on their stances, and Hound had moved back in with his ex-roommate, Trailbreaker, although he hadn't taken anything but his everyday necessities with him. For the last seven orns, they hadn't spoken at all, and Hound had accepted a mission that morning that took Smokescreen, Beachcomber, and him to Arizona. Even before the veil of silence, though, all Hound had done was insist his idealism wasn't misplaced. That his love was real.

Someone plopped down across from Mirage, and he glanced up to see a clearly over-energized Cliffjumper. In an instant, his evening had just gone from bad to Pit-spawned. Cliffjumper made a violent, paranoid drunk.

"Nice of ya t' wear the ribbon," Cliffjumper remarked, optics narrowed.

Mirage stared at him, his own high-grade buzzing in his processor, and wondered if Cliffjumper had any idea what all the colors really meant: red for luck, yellow for courage, blue for longevity, black for wisdom, silver for peace, white for joy . . . all things he was unlikely to ever achieve.

"Are ya over-energized," Cliffjumper asked, gesturing wildly with one arm, "or are ya just being rude?"

Mirage took a sip of his energon and debated whether he should even bother to be civil. "Just a bit dazed." He chose honesty. It seemed logical to be blunt, even with a drunk. "And why wouldn't I wear the ribbon? We're not only celebrating a spark-bonding, we're celebrating the separation of a sparkling. Sparklings have become exceedingly rare and should be welcomed into the universe with joy."

Cliffjumper snorted. "Ya don't look joyful."

_Can't deny that._ Mirage sighed. Hound usually saved him from Cliffjumper's paranoid fits when the minibot got over-energized, but not only was Hound gone, Mirage also wasn't sure he'd defend him.

Brawn approached and flopped down in the chair by Cliffjumper. "What's the problem, Mirage? Not in a partying mood?"

Mirage wondered what qualified as worse than 'pit-spawned' and gulped down three swigs of high-grade. "If I'm not, does that make me evil?" He glared at Cliffjumper. "Am I a 'Con for having a bad night?" He vaguely realized he shouldn't be so brash, but his processor was growing fuzzy.

"For someone who hates to fight, you sure know how to use fightin' words." Brawn smirked.

"Yes, because we all know violence is the answer for everything." Mirage sneered. "That's why our entire planet is burnt-out ruins."

Brawn growled, and Cliffjumper stood, nearly tipping over in the process but still looking ready to throw punches. Mirage stared at them with a mix of exasperation and utter ennui. Then he noticed Gears and Huffer headed their way. "Lovely," Mirage muttered, pushing aside his energon cube. "Now _Monsieur_ Doomsayer and _Monsieur_ Whiner are joining the club. Excuse me while I vanish." With that, he engaged his electro-disrupter and quickly slipped away, dodging Brawn and Cliffjumper as they lunged at him.

Ignoring the crash of table and chairs behind him, Mirage exited the room, finding the relative quiet of the hallway a relief until he heard Wheeljack call after him.

"Mirage! I know you're out here. Please wait." Wheeljack paused in the hallway, looking both directions.

Knowing Wheeljack would never be rude to him, Mirage begrudgingly released his disrupter, becoming visible. "What may I do for you?"

Wheeljack walked up to him, grasping him gently by the elbow, and continued down the hall with him. "Look, I'm not blind, deaf, or stupid. Something's up between you and Hound, and it's got you both depressed. I don't know much about psychology, but I did spend a lot of time at the Towers—"

"And you're hoping I'll see fit to spill my circuits to you." Mirage shook his head and pulled away, affecting his 'arrogant noble' mask. "No thank you, and besides, it's simple. Towers mechs really are different, and I should have known better than to think a common bondmate would understand." He turned and headed away, wanting to end the unpleasant intrusion.

"Wouldn't understand what?" Wheeljack asked quietly. "That your personal tutor used you as an unpaid pleasure drone?"

Mirage halted in his tracks and glanced over his shoulder in utter horror. "What did you just say?"

"Spare me." Wheeljack crossed his arms. "While I was working on your sister's protoform, your tutor made a pass at me. A Tower's mech propositioning a common mech he doesn't know? _Please._ That told me a lot. But what was more telling were the possessive looks he was giving you. I've seen those kinds of looks before, and I know what they mean."

Mirage felt as though every circuit, node, and wire in his chassis had frozen solid. "You don't know anything," he whispered.

"I don't?" Wheeljack fingered his chin, which was currently _sans_ blast mask. Mirage had never seen Wheeljack go without the mask until his bonding ceremony, and he could see finely-etched scars running over his cheeks like spider webs. "I know something about scars, and I'm not talking the physical variety. But maybe I'm wrong about your tutor." His fingers strayed over the lines imprinted in his cheeks. "Well, I do know for a fact that you had some nasty blow-outs with a few exs of yours, and I can tell you I _do_ know all about that. One of my exs was rumored to have been a disowned mech from the Towers, in fact. Did you know a 'bot named Sidewinder?"

Mirage's deep shock was faintly waylaid by his curiosity. "You dated Sidewinder?" He didn't want to admit the truth, but part of him longed for justification. Sidewinder had turned out to be one of the worst glitches he'd ever known. "I dated Sideswinder before his creators disowned him. If anyone can be said to have used me as an 'unpaid pleasure drone,' it would have been him."

"Why am I not surprised?" Wheeljack shook his head. "I can see why you're leery of relationships, then. But if I've learned anything, it's that Bluestreak is _not_ like Sidewinder. And if I hadn't given him the chance to prove that, I certainly wouldn't be bonded to him now."

Pondering the urge to tell Wheeljack that his hope for happiness was premature, Mirage opened his mouth, only to close it again without speaking. He really couldn't imagine Bluestreak mistreating Wheeljack in any fashion other than talking his audios off, and Wheeljack was unfailingly kind to everyone except 'Cons.

"There really are exceptions to every rule, if you're willing to see them." Wheeljack shrugged and smiled. "If someone with a face like mine can find love, why couldn't you?"

"You're not ugly." The words were out of Mirage's mouth before he realized he was going to speak. He frowned but continued anyway. "Besides, love should never be about physical beauty."

Wheeljack's smile brightened. "Glad to hear you say that." He turned and headed back toward the rec room. "You're right about me not knowing exactly what happened to you." He threw a glance over his shoulder. "But ask yourself this: if all the 'bots who hurt you could see you now, would they like what they saw? If he were still alive, Sidewinder would be ecstatic if I had never dated again. He would have considered it a major victory. But I'd fight to the very last pulse of my spark to never let him win." Without further comment, he returned to the party.

Mirage stared after him, unable to deny that Sidewinder and others like him would have loved it if he could never be happy. Sidewinder had wanted to own him, just like _he_ had.

It had never been love. It had always been a power play.

"If I don't let them have what they want, then I guess I have to pursue what I want," he muttered to himself, trying to pull apart all the strands in his mind. They seemed to be melted together like pure gold threads in a raging fire, and his spark seemed to bypass them, slip past his processor, and make its own demands. _All I ever wished was that someone would love me after all. Even though I don't deserve it, even though I'm disgusting, even though—_

Mirage sighed, letting the thought slip away. "But no one ever will," he reminded himself. "Hound has been the only one to even seem interested, but it's over now. We're not even talking."

Dispirited, Mirage slipped into the shadows before any other well-meaning but ill-advised mech found him.

* * *

_Postscript: Yes, this story definitely crosses with "Magic and Loss," where more details about Wheeljack's and Sidewinder's relationship are revealed._

_Thank you to the following for reviews: Crossfire1205, iiskaa, KrysSaiyan, OrianPrime92, Shiny Ryuichi Sakuma, Carmilla DeWinter, Hellen, Starstreak 777, The Transdresser, and Independent.C._


	4. Healing is Not Forgetting

"_Forgiving does not erase the bitter past. A healed memory is not a deleted memory.  
Instead, forgiving what we cannot forget creates a new way to remember.  
We change the memory of our past into a hope for our future."  
-- Lewis B. Smedes_

_**Chapter 4: Healing Is Not Forgetting**_

When Mt. St. Hilary came into view, along with the Ark's protruding thrusters, Hound felt a spark-deep sense of relief mixed with blatant fear. _I'm not sure I'm ready to face Mirage,_ he thought, suddenly heedless of the dust his tires kicked up and his teammates' chatting. The sun seemed harsh and punishing as it glared off the sand, creating waves of heat and . . .

_Mirages,_ Hound thought with an internal sigh.

As they neared the Ark's entrance, though, Hound was distracted by the sight of Jazz leaning against the boulders, his arms crossed over his chest and a small smile tugging at his lips. Hound transformed and waved his teammates inside. "Jazz?"

Jazz pushed away from the rocks. "Let's go for a walk."

_This can't be good._ Nevertheless, Hound followed him, knowing it wasn't a request.

"Mirage's and yer performance ratings've plummeted," Jazz said conversationally as they climbed a rocky path.

Hound flinched.

"Yer both visibly distracted and depressed," he continued, slipping past a boulder in their path.

Hound took to staring at his feet as they walked, watching the dust swirl upward with each step. "I can't exactly deny that."

Jazz halted abruptly. "Nah, ya can't." He paused. "Ya know, everyone suspects I know more than I should about a great many things."

Hound glanced up and was discomforted to see the smug little smile on Jazz's face. "Yeah . . ."

"And I do." Jazz chuckled. "It's just the nature of bein' in Special Ops. Information is the difference between life and death for me. And knowin' the mechs servin' directly under me is part of protectin' myself. All of us." He cocked his head. "It's how I know that Prime's unfalterin' optimism and faith in Mirage is not misplaced. If he really were a traitor, I would've killed him myself." His unwavering smile suddenly seemed cold.

Hound shivered, feeling like frozen leaves were pelting his chassis. He'd always suspected that Jazz had a second side, a dangerous side, that was disturbing and yet necessary for the Autobots' survival. "And you're admitting this to me why?"

"Because ya need to realize that I've gone to great lengths to understand both Mirage's and Bumblebee's personalities, attitudes, and pasts." Jazz snorted. "And ya don't even _want_ to know what I have to do to not only keep track of Punch—or rather 'Counterpunch' at the moment—but also make sure he remains mentally balanced." He resumed walking. "Needless to say, I know a great more about Mirage than either you or Ratchet." He tossed a grin over his shoulder.

Hound ran a few steps to catch up with him. "Okay, I believe you." He fought the urge to bite his lip. "So what are you telling me, exactly?"

"Mirage's past is dark. Darker, even, than he knows." The cold smile had melted from Jazz's face, replaced by a worried frown that pulled on his lips. "He's one of the most cynical mechs I've ever met, but not without reason. Everyone claims he's cold, unfeelin', suspicious, arrogant, even cruel. But I've seen him break down. I've seen him impassioned, upset, angry—dozens of masks and shattered masks caused by the complication of already impossible missions."

Hound stopped walking and stared at Jazz, suspicious and jealous. "You've interfaced with him." He knew suddenly it was true.

Jazz stopped as well and faced him. "A few times. He got around a lot when he first joined the Autobots, but he started getting' picker and picker. Increasingly cautious and selective. He hasn't touched anyone since we arrived on Earth. It's a sign of how self-protective he's become, and that's a good thing. But before that, he apparently felt I was one of the few he could trust. We never even tried to have a relationship, and neither of us wanted one. But I decided I'd rather navigate his mental minefield than send him elsewhere when he needed release."

Hound glanced away, somehow stung, only to feel a flash of fear. He looked back at Jazz. "Did you hit him?" he whispered.

"Nah." Jazz frowned. "Not my flavor of energon." A wicked little grin bent his lips. "I can do bondage and discipline, though. Maybe not to the extent he wanted it on the latter, but he never failed to overload. And that is the issue that caused the problem, isn't it?"

Stunned by Jazz's blunt honesty, Hound unconsciously stepped back. Part of his spark roared with jealousy, and the rest felt embarrassed to know such intimate details. He resumed staring at his feet.

"I know I'm bein' really forward about this, but talk to me, Hound." Jazz's voice was quiet now. Kind. "Mirage is a complicated mech. This can't be easy for ya." He paused. "Did he not overload when ya interfaced?"

Hound covered his face with his hands, horrified and humiliated, but he was too desperate for help to not answer. "No, he overloaded. But he kept asking me to hit him, and I just can't. It's not my 'flavor of energon,' either." He shuddered, the pain of his relationship-gone-wrong threatening to overcome him. "I can't bring myself to hurt him, and when I talked to Ratchet about it, he told me Mirage had likely been sexually traumatized and said _not_ to hit him, anyway."

Jazz grasped his wrists and pulled his hands from his face. "Sensible advice. And ya shouldn't do things yer uncomfortable with. But yer going to have to _talk_ about it with him and work out a compromise. But ya aren't talkin' at all, are ya?"

Hound shook his head, finding himself oddly caught in Jazz's gaze.

"Communication is _the_ most important part of a relationship, aside from love." Jazz stepped closer, not releasing Hound's wrists.

Hound backed up, but Jazz followed him. A pulse of fear raced through Hound's circuits. He could _sense_ some kind of sexual intent behind Jazz's actions, but part of him was certain Jazz would never cheat on Prowl.

"Communication is not always words, though," Jazz was saying, his voice silky. He leaned closer to Hound's face, and Hound pulled back. "The 'loudest' form of communication is action. You can say as many pretty words as ya like." He paused as Hound's back hit a boulder, trapping him. "But if what ya do says somethin' different, it's yer actions that others believe." He leaned in so close their lips nearly touched. "I've got no sexual feelings for you," he whispered. "Do ya believe me?"

Hound found he couldn't get any air through his intakes and shook his head.

Jazz released him and stepped back to a normal, comfortable distance. "Point made?"

Gasping suddenly, Hound nodded, still a little shaken.

"Good." Jazz began walking again. "I've never known a mech more desperate to be loved than Mirage," he said, glancing over his shoulder, "and I've never known one so sure no one could love him."

Recovering himself, Hound ran forward a few steps again to catch up with him. "Ratchet also said I should show Mirage my love through my actions, but I wasn't convinced Mirage would even want it."

Jazz shook his head. "He wants it. I don't think he realizes it, but he's already in love with ya. He's just terrified." He gave him a sideways glance. "The _actions_ of the 'bots in his life have taught him to not have hope. To not trust. But ya can't give up because he'll never have a reason to try if ya do." He stepped to the ledge and gazed at the slope below them, which was covered in trees. "Yer a scout, so ya know the importance of not givin' up."

"True," Hound whispered, feeling for the first time in many orns that he should keep fighting for his relationship with Mirage.

"Do you have any idea how long I pursued Prowl?" Jazz asked.

Hound shook his head.

He grinned. "Fifty-one vorns. I had to wait. Wait until he felt ready for a relationship, since he put his duty to the Autobots first. Wait for him to realize I really did love him." He shrugged. "Everyone I knew told me to give up. That I was wastin' my time. And I did have flings in the meantime, obviously, until he realized I wanted him as more than a friend. But I wouldn't change it. It was worth waitin' for. A lot of things are worth waitin' for when love is at work." He patted Hound's shoulder. "If you were in an abusive relationship, I wouldn't say that, but Mirage is just tryin' to run away from ya. He's wounded and scared. But the destruction of a spark bond is a painful thing that usually drives both 'bots insane, and it's nothin' either of ya really want."

Hound crossed his arms over his chassis, as though trying to hug himself. The wind had picked up and now whipped across his armor, chilling him. "Yeah, I know."

"So the question is this: Is Mirage worth waitin' for?"

"Yes," Hound said without even thinking. He paused and met Jazz's gaze. "Yes, he is."

"Then start at the very beginnin'." Jazz stepped back and started back down the path. "In yer rush to save his life, ya skipped a stage. You went straight from friends to bondmates. Time to fill in the gap." He threw a glance over his shoulder. "Besides, don't ya want the chance to romance him?"

Hound watched Jazz's retreating back and knew he was right.

oOoOo

Returning from patrol with Sunstreaker, who fortunately had no use for talking to him, Mirage was unsurprised to find Jazz leaning against the rocks at the Ark's entrance, waiting for him. "Greetings," he said, leery of the small smile twitching at the corner of Jazz's lips. He had known it would only be a matter of time before Jazz's busybodiness forced him into action.

"Let's take a walk," Jazz said, pushing away from the rocks.

Mirage got the distinct impression that Jazz was following one of his internal scripts. Still, ever since he had bonded with Prowl, his manipulation of others had eased up. Mirage knew Jazz had always acted for the benefit of his comrades, all of whom he truly cared about, but he had been terribly calculating about it sometimes. _Had_ been. "Fine." He followed Jazz up the rocky path etched into Mt. St. Hilary, knowing Jazz wouldn't try to play with him. Bonding with Prowl had perhaps been the best thing Jazz had ever done for himself.

_I wish I could say that about myself and Hound,_ he thought, frowning.

They walked in silence until quite a bit of distance separated them from possible listening audios, then Jazz abruptly turned and faced him. "Do ya know what I'm goin' to say?" he asked.

As he had assumed, Jazz wasn't going to play with him. "Probably. 'Trust Hound' or 'trust in love' or 'stop running away' or the like."

"So ya admit yer runnin' away?"

Mirage snorted. "I've always maintained that you know more about me than I do." He slipped past Jazz and continued up the trail. "You think I'm going to trust in a 'happily ever after'?"

"Nah." Jazz fell in beside him. "There's no 'happily ever after.' Relationships take work. Hard work, sometimes. They can be deeply fulfillin' and all, but only if ya take the time to make them that way."

Mirage glanced at Jazz, knowing perfectly well that he was happy with Prowl. Somehow, though, it was a relief to see Jazz wasn't going to pretend it was easy. He had always been able to rely on Jazz to be levelheaded and realistic. "Fair enough." He glanced down the slope at all the trees Hound prized so much. "So what are you really saying? That I _should_ trust Hound?"

"Didn't ya already trust him?" Jazz gave him a half-smile. "Does interfacin' really change it so much?"

"_Yes._" Mirage shook his head. "You already know that, though."

Jazz slipped his hand into Mirage's, grasping it and pulling him to a stop, and then caught his gaze. "Mirage, do ya trust _me_?"

Mirage paused, struck by the significance of the question. Jazz had asked it many times, in a number of different situations. And over time, the answer had become an unflinching 'yes.' "You know I do."

"Then trust me now." Jazz squeezed his hand. "Even though I love Prowl and am bonded to him, I'd still never let anyone hurt ya. Or Bumblebee or Punch or anyone else in my division."

Mirage glanced away, embarrassed and yet reassured by Jazz's display of loyalty.

Jazz released his hand and gently grasped his helm with both hands, making him look at him. "Hey. What happened to that mech who forced himself on ya durin' our mission to Cyber City all those vorns ago?"

"He mysteriously vanished," Mirage whispered, knowing perfectly well that Jazz had used the mech as a shield during a 'Con attack.

"No one hurts the 'bots I care about." Jazz released Mirage and crossed his arms.

Mirage watched him closely, seeing the cold, exacting edge that enabled the Autobots' Special Ops to stay on top of the enemy. There was something oddly comforting about that protection, even if they weren't romantically involved. "No . . . they really can't. At least not without suffering for it."

Jazz nodded once, either in approval or confirmation, but Mirage wasn't sure which. "So what makes ya think I'd suggest ya pursue a relationship with Hound if I didn't think he'd treat ya right? You think I don't have the skinny on him? Scouts are indispensible, and they have to be trustworthy. I've never let Hound outta my sights. And if he weren't the kind, sensitive mech he seems, if he didn't so obviously love ya, he would've 'mysteriously vanished' the very day he accidentally spark-bonded with ya. No way would I leave you spark-bonded to someone who abused ya."

Unable to reply, Mirage simply stared at him, stunned. And yet, Jazz's past actions had demonstrated he really did look out for his mechs. Many a 'Con had been shot straight through the spark for trying to kill Bumblebee, and nothing compared to what Jazz had done to the 'bot who had tried to torture Punch into believing his allegiance really was to the 'Cons. "But—" he began, still wanting to protest. Words failed him, though.

"Fight it, Mirage," Jazz whispered, reaching out to grasp his upper arms. "It's worth fightin' for."

Mirage twisted halfway away, but Jazz didn't release him. He wanted to deny it, to run away from Jazz, but he knew too much about his past. "Fight what?" he finally asked. "And how?"

"Pick one." Jazz shrugged. "That Sidewinder guy ya told me about. Airsurfer. Skyrazor."

Mirage flinched at the final name.

"Any one of the dozen 'bots who hurt ya," Jazz continued. "Yer memories of them are affectin' what ya do with Hound. Yer past is muckin' up yer present. You care about Hound, right?"

Mirage turned back to face him. "Of course," he whispered. "He was my closest friend first."

"That because he genuinely cares about ya." Jazz gave his arms a comforting squeeze. "Yer task here is real simple. Is yer friendship with Hound worth fightin' for?"

Mirage nodded and bit his lower lip.

"Then what's a bond except the expansion of a friendship?" Jazz shook his head. "Ya gotta be friends first, or it'll never work. But you _were_ friends first. What makes ya assume it can't work?"

"Because 'facing _does_ change everything!" Mirage didn't bother to hide his feelings. Jazz already knew him too well for him to pretend. "It all becomes this huge power play, and then comes the insensitivity, and in the end you're just getting used like some cheap possession!"

Jazz gazed at him silently for a klik. "Is Hound Sidewinder?"

When Jazz didn't continue, Mirage realized the question wasn't rhetorical. "No, but—"

"Is Hound Airsurfer or Skyrazor?"

Mirage flinched again and stared at his feet. "It doesn't matter. They're all ultimately the same."

Jazz released his arms, grasped his chin, and tilted his face upward. "Would I kill Hound to keep him from hurtin' ya?"

Kliks passed, but Mirage couldn't lie with Jazz staring him down. "Yes."

Jazz nodded again. "If ya want to fight this, then ya need to have some hope for the future. And to have that, you'll have to consider forgiveness."

"_Forgiveness!_" Mirage jerked away. "No! I am _never_ forgiving those slaggers for hurting me. Never! I can't believe you'd even suggest it."

Jazz simply remained calm. "I'm not sayin' you should forgive them because they deserve it. They don't, and they never can. Heh. They're probably are all dead, anyway. I'm sayin' that ya should forgive them so _you_ don't have to feel angry anymore. Do it for yerself. Forgivin' is not forgettin'. To release rage is not to condone what happened or say it was okay. Because it wasn't. Instead, it's to let yerself heal. The only real question is whether ya want to feel angry anymore."

Mirage stared at him, at a loss for words once again and feeling more like punching him. But then his processor flashed a warning at him, and suddenly an unfamiliar image streaked through his memory banks. A black face with crimson optics. Skyrazor sneering at him. _"Yes, hate me my little Mirage. Hate me with all your spark. It's how you'll always know that you're mine."_

Gasping, Mirage spun away, realizing another flimsy memory block had broken. "What in Primus's name!" He threw his hands to his temples as though he could physically stop the image. "What is going on?" He wasn't sure he meant for Jazz to answer, but he was too upset to care either way. "What are these odd memory blocks that keep giving away? Where did they come from? I didn't even know they were there until they starting breaking and I don't understand it and I swear I didn't put them there and I don't _want_ to remember anything more about Skyrazor!"

Jazz stepped around him and pulled him into a hug. "It _will_ be okay, Mirage. I promise." He rubbed his back in that comforting way that Mirage had never forgotten. "But the evidence suggests Skyrazor was the one who put them there."

"Primus! It makes me ill just to consider it." Mirage shuddered, memories of the black and silver mech flitting through his processor, taunting him. That smirk, those mocking words, those hurtful hands.

"Fight it, Mirage," Jazz whispered. "You don't have to run anymore. You have no idea just how far ya've come from the mech I first met all those vorns ago. That time ya tried to kill yerself, I thought it was all over, but ya pulled it together. You pushed against yer past and even made a friend. You let _Hound_ befriend ya, and I was amazed at how much better ya got after that. Don't stop now, Mirage. Keep pushin' through it. Don't quit so close to the finish line."

Mirage rested his head on Jazz's shoulder, unable to stop shaking. Jazz's words gave him hope, though. Hope that he really could defeat all those glitches who'd hurt him. "I won't," he finally whispered in reply.

"Good." Jazz rubbed his back again. "I knew ya were strong enough to overcome this."

_Someone believes in me,_ Mirage thought, caught somewhere between joy and pain. _But if this is going to work, what I really need is for Hound to believe in me. To accept me despite my past._

_Can he do that?_

oOoOo

The following morning, Mirage awakened from recharge to find a cube of energon on his bedside table. For a moment, he felt his paint crawl at the thought someone had been in and out of his quarters without his knowing it, but he knew it had to be Hound. As though to support his theory, a datapad lay beside the cube, and he read it as he drank his breakfast:

_Good morning, Noble One,_

Mirage snorted in amusement at the playful nickname Hound had given him at the beginning of their friendship.

_You were still recharging, so I didn't want to disturb you. I'm supposed to tell you, though, that Sideswipe was injured on his patrol last night, and you'll be taking his shifts for the next three orns._

_Sniffing One_

Snorting again at the sight of his nickname for Hound, Mirage set down the datapad and swallowed the rest of his energon. "Lovely. I can't wait." Thumping down his empty cube, he surveyed his quarters and sighed at the sight of Hound's holophoto displayer and 'rock' collection. He'd picked up everything from petrified wood to multi-colored crystals, having been fascinated by Earth's geology. Mirage sighed again. "I really am a failure. I couldn't even be bonded for stellar cycle without ruining everything." Hating himself profoundly but still determined to take Jazz's advice, he went to the washracks, then reported to the command center to get his orders.

Jazz hadn't arrived yet, but Hound was getting a situation report from Trailbreaker. Hound glanced his way and gave him a warm smile. Mirage paused, wondering what he was playing at. Tentatively, he tapped their bond, but he only sensed Hound's usual friendliness. Although wary, he let himself relax a bit. _Why is he acting like everything's fine?_ Hound left shortly thereafter, though, so Mirage didn't get the chance to ask.

The next morning, Mirage awakened to find another cube of energon. "A new ritual?" he asked, not caring that the walls couldn't answer him. This time, however, he managed to grab Hound at the Ark's entrance before he left on patrol.

"Thank you," Mirage said simply, still curious about Hound's motives.

Hound grinned. "Did you like it? We converted it from an experimental fuel the humans are working on."

Mirage considered the smoother, sweeter taste of his breakfast. "Yes, actually."

"Good!" Hound waved goodbye as he ran to join an impatient Gears, who was yelling that he was late.

Energon awaited him the next morning and the one after that. After fifteen more orns, Mirage realized he was going to find energon awaiting him every morning, and he'd begun wracking his processor for something to give Hound in order to show his appreciation.

_He likes Earth's geology,_ Mirage reasoned with himself on the way to the control room, not even noticing the other first-shift mechs as they passed him. _But I know nothing about it! Maybe I should ask Beachcomber for ideas._

He rounded the doorway and, still not paying attention, bumped into Hound.

"Whoa!" Hound caught his balance by grasping Mirage's shoulders, and he managed to steady them both.

"My apologies," Mirage replied, mortified. "I wasn't watching were I was going."

"No problem." Hound smiled and started to continue on his way, but Mirage grabbed his arm.

He returned the smile tentatively. "Ah . . . thank you for the energon. It's quite nice to awaken to each morning."

Hound's grin grew wider. "You're welcome. It's no problem."

Feeling that a mere thanks was woefully inadequate, Mirage slipped his hand into Hound's and squeezed it. "It still takes time out of your morning, and it's very thoughtful."

"Anything for you." Hound reached up with his free hand, as though he were going to run the back of his fingers down Mirage's cheek, but he stopped short.

Mirage found himself wishing he had gone through with it, but he knew how much he didn't deserve anyone's care.

"While you're here," Hound said. "I should ask you . . . Do you remember that movie Jazz and Blaster got to see as members of the preview audience? _Back to the Future_? It comes out today. Wanna go see it at the drive in? They've been saying the car that stars in it is a real beauty."

_So we can go back to the way things were before?_ Mirage wondered, thinking the idea of doing something low-stakes and fun with Hound sounded appealing. "Sure."

Hound squeezed his hand in return, then released it. "Excellent! Meet me at the entrance after your shift?"

Mirage nodded, and watched Hound walked away, a bounce in his step. _Am I being courted?_ He shook his head, only to find another small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. It didn't exactly feel bad.

Once his shift was finished, Mirage reported to the Ark's entrance and leaned against the rocks much like Jazz had orns earlier. "Sneaky 'bot," he muttered to himself, smirking. By reminding him that he'd kill anyone who hurt him, Jazz had enabled him to relax in the knowledge his back was covered, so to speak. Mirage crossed his arms and gazed at the sunset, appreciating the way it tinted the sky crimson and orange. Some Earth insect was chirping lazily in the forest beyond, and he found the sound calming.

A faint mechanical buzzing drew Mirage's attention, and he turned to find Hound mapping a hologram of him. "Hound?"

"Sorry." Hound smiled and glanced away. "You looked so peaceful I wanted to record the image so I could convert it into a holophoto."

Mirage found himself mirroring that smile, rather touched. "It's fine." He gestured at the road. "Shall we?"

"Sure." Hound transformed and took off, and Mirage immediately transformed as well and followed him.

_It's been too long since we just spent time together,_ Mirage thought, saddened. He was struck by an idea, however, and sped up to nudge Hound's bumper.

"Hm?" Hound sounded as though he'd been jolted from deep thoughts.

Mirage chuckled and carefully nudged his bumper again. It wasn't an easy task since Mirage sat lower to the ground and had no bumper, but they weren't driving very quickly.

Hound laughed and sped up, only to swerve to the side and hit his brakes. Before Mirage could react, Hound was driving behind him instead. _Bump._

"No fair," Mirage teased. He accelerated, as though trying to escape, but Hound kept up with him. He swerved and slowed down, but Hound anticipated his move. They ended up side-by-side, where they proceeded to nudge each other all the way into the city, until they were both laughing.

When they reached the drive in, they transformed long enough to identify themselves to the manager and get the Autobots' well-used movie account charged. Then, after trading a few playful shoves, they settled back into alt mode by the convenient car speakers.

"Time travel, huh?" Mirage commented, suddenly wishing he could curl up with Hound in root mode instead.

"And staring a really hot car, or so Blaster and Jazz say," Hound replied, sounding much amused. "Should be worth a try."

Four breems into the movie, Mirage decided the image and sound quality were pathetic and the poor DeLorean deserved more screen time. Still, the plot was interesting enough, and the human antics weren't too annoying. When the film ended and he and Hound started back to base, he decided to give it a decent review.

"For something so incredibly human-centric, it was fairly good," he said as they turned off the highway and onto the dirt road that would lead them back to the Ark.

"Glad you enjoyed it." Hound stopped suddenly and transformed. "Oops."

Mirage halted and transformed as well, then walked back to where Hound stood. "What?"

Pulling two energon cubes from his subspace, Hound grimaced. "I meant to bring these out _before_ the movie."

"That's fine. I wasn't expecting 'dinner and a movie.'" Mirage laughed and accepted his cube, then looked around until he found a sizable boulder to sit on. "You really do love Earth culture, don't you? You've even absorbed their courtship rituals."

Refusing to meet his gaze, Hound paused as Mirage sat down, then sat on the ground by his feet. "Oh, uh, I guess so."

Wanting to show him it was okay, Mirage reached out and ran his hand over Hound's helm. "I don't mind, I promise."

Hound smiled and then halfway disappeared behind his energon cube. Chuckling at the return of a bashfulness he hadn't seen from Hound in vorns, Mirage relaxed on his perch and sipped his energon. They drank in silence for several kliks before Hound apparently found the nerve to speak again.

"So," he said, smiling shyly. "Tomorrow McChord Air Force Base in Washington is going to put on an air show. Has something to do with some human celebration. I have it on good word, though, that the machines are fairly impressive for human technology and the maneuvers are worth seeing. Would you, uh, like to go?"

Mirage stared at him. It was the Hound he remembered: the one he trusted and considered his closest friend, the one he enjoyed spending time with and liked to share things with, the one he—

Loved.

Mirage chuckled weakly and stared at the ground. Part of him wanted to run, run as far away as he could, but he resisted the impulse. He was tired of running. "That would be lovely," he replied quietly, subspacing his empty cube.

Hound reached up and squeezed his hand. "Great!"

In response, a warm thrill raced through his circuits, and Mirage watched him closely. _Can he really love me? The real me?_

After a moment's hesitation, Hound once again lifted his hand, paused, and then ran his fingertips down Mirage's cheek seam. "Thanks for coming with me tonight."

"Thank you for bringing me." Relieved that Hound had completed his move this time, Mirage fought himself for a klik, then leaned down, brushing his lips over Hound's. Before Hound could react, he quickly stood and walked away.

But even as he left, he felt their repressed bond hum to life with an emotion that was neither dark nor terrifying. It was a comforting feeling, a warm one.

Mirage wished with all his spark that it could be love.

* * *

_Postscript: Thank you to the following for their reviews: Carmilla DeWinter, Independent.C., herongale, Time Manipulator, Dvana, Jovianokamigirl, Illusion224, Hellen, OrianPrime92, Shiny Ryuichi Sakuma, CoalTreasure, and Starstreak 777._


	5. Scars and Wounds

"_When I stand before thee at the day's end, thou shalt see my scars  
and know that I had my wounds and also my healing."_  
--Rabindranath Tagore

_**Chapter 5: Scars and Wounds**_

Relaxing in the warmth of the midday sun, Mirage listened to the hum of Hound's and his tires on the highway and found himself in a good mood. The air show at McChord Air Force Base had been impressive, and Mirage found it strangely comforting to watch the sleek maneuvers of jets that wouldn't attack him.

"Did you enjoy it?" Hound asked, following closely enough behind him to be tailgating.

"Yes, it was lovely." Mirage expanded his sensors to take in more than the surrounding traffic and decided the thick forests of pines and firs were also beautiful in their own way. Perhaps Hound's obsession with Earth was easier to understand than he'd first thought. "Thank you for taking me." He paused, wondering at the one detail that confused him. Everywhere they'd been or passed by, humans were cooking or eating. "Whatever this holiday is, their main method of celebration seems to be eating."

Hound chuckled as he pulled alongside him. "Every culture has its own rituals. At least this 'Independence Day' doesn't involve the ritual sacrifice of a bird, like 'Thanksgiving' did."

"So very barbaric." Mirage drove right past their exit, hoping he was distracting Hound enough for him to not notice right away. He had a surprise for his bondmate and didn't want to reveal it too soon. "I wonder if all nations on Earth sacrifice birds for celebrations."

"Says the mech who killed turbofoxes for fun." Hound gently nudged Mirage in the side.

"That's different," Mirage said, answering the playful accusation in all seriousness. "Turbofoxes were built to be hunted, and they were programmed to not feel fear. They simply executed their evasion programs. Plus we always repaired them after the hunt, and when they began to wear out, we kept them as pets."

"Pets?" Hound laughed good-naturedly. "Poor things. Hunted relentlessly and then relegated to being pets."

Mirage wasn't the least bit offended. "They were much loved." _Most 'bots probably loved them more than each other,_ he thought, saddened.

"Wait, didn't we pass our exit?" Hound slowed down.

_Too perceptive._ "I've arranged time for us to take a detour," Mirage replied. "It's a thank you gift for the energon you keep leaving for me."

"You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to." Mirage veered off of interstate 5 onto the exit ramp.

Hound followed him. "Where are we going?"

"Mount Rainier National Park." Mirage had to fight to keep the glee from his voice. Hound had been talking of visiting the park practically since their arrival on Earth.

"Mount Rainier?" Hound sounded ecstatic. "I've been dying to see it!"

"I know." Mirage had the sudden urge to hug him and wished for a moment they were in root mode instead. He picked up speed as they merged from the ramp into the traffic. "So tell me. What would you like to see in addition to the mountain itself? Glaciers? Lakes? Animals? I gather they just completed an extensive study of an animal called 'elk,' and the area is apparently known for a bird called 'northern spotted owl.'" Mirage paused, trying to remember what else Teletraan I had gathered about the park. "Apparently there are some lovely waterfalls."

"It all sounds wonderful!" Hound seemed to be bursting from cheerfulness. "Let's just see how much we can explore."

"Very well."

"So if I told you that I love you, would you believe me now?" Hound asked, sounding half-serious.

Mirage decided to be truthful in his reply. "I would." A burst of happiness erupted over their bond, and he chuckled faintly.

They drove in companionable silence until they reached the park, and then set off exploring amongst the fir and cedar trees. Finding a clearing of sufficient enough width for them, they transformed.

"This is a good spot." Hound radiated enthusiasm, his grin lighting his entire face. "I can smell water nearby." He paused. "Actually, I hear a waterfall."

Mirage simply watched him, enjoying the sight of his excitement. He grasped Hound's hand, slipping their fingers together. "Lead the way, Sniffing One."

Hound leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. "As you command, Noble One."

Laughing, Mirage relaxed as Hound led them through the trees, pointing to delicate white wildflowers growing in the brush or growing still as a black-tailed deer darted across their path. Then he stopped entirely and put his free hand on Mirage's arm.

"Look," he whispered, indicating a blue-feathered bird in the tree nearest them. Its crested head was black-brown, but its body was royal blue. "It's a Steller's jay. Its beautiful color reminds me of you."

Mirage smiled, watching the tiny creature. "So fragile," he replied, whispering as well, "but lovely."

"I wouldn't say you're fragile," Hound said, grinning at him. "But you're definitely lovely."

"What a romancer!" Mirage chuckled softly, then stole a kiss of his own. A breeze rushed through the tree tops, tossing the limbs gently and dappling their armor with patches of sunlight. Hound's face seemed to glow in the light, and Mirage decided the beautiful one between them was him. He reached up and ran his fingertips down Hound's cheek. "I'm glad you're still here with me."

Hound pulled him into his arms, hugging him. "It's all I ever wanted."

Mirage relaxed in the embrace, staring idly at the dainty, white wildflowers. The day's heat seemed a comforting blanket wrapped around their frames. It occurred to him that they could step on the wildflowers and kill them instantly. It also occurred to him that Hound never would. He reached up with one hand and ran it slowly down his bondmate's back. _Safe,_ he thought, amazed by the concept. _I think I'm actually safe here._

They parted after a klik, trading shy smiles, then continued to the water's edge. A creek rushed over rocks, tiny fish darting from shadow to shadow, and above them on the cliff face arched a small waterfall. The muted roar of the cascading water relaxed Mirage further, and he noted that from the right angle, the waterfall refracted the sunlight, creating a tiny rainbow.

"Stunning," Hound murmured, drawing out his gun to holograph the scene.

Mirage realized suddenly that half the peace he felt was coming through the bond from Hound, whose very spark seemed calmed by the beauty of nature. _What a special mech you are,_ Mirage thought, touched.

Contented to let Hound explore, Mirage followed him through the park, holding his hand when their sensors indicated no humans were nearby to be confused about Cybertronian relationships. Mt. Rainier's snow-capped peak remained a constant background during their self-guided tour, and it looked to Mirage a great deal like Mt. Fuji in Japan. Hound holographed a larger waterfall, a lake, and the volcano itself, deciding to add them to his hotophoto displayer, and by the time Mirage dragged him out of the park, they were both exhausted and covered in mud and dirt.

"You're hopeless," Mirage teased, transforming and sinking low on his struts as they headed back to Oregon.

"I know," came the rather dreamy response of one thoroughly-satisfied jeep.

As happy as he was about the trip's remarkable success, Mirage thought the drone of his tires on the road would lull him into recharge before he could reach the Ark. When the eroded thrusters came into view, he immediately pinged Teletraan I, and getting nothing but the standard welcome signal, logged their return and headed straight for the washracks, not even bothering to transform.

Reaching the washrack entrance, Mirage nearly stumbled when he did transform, and only the sudden presence of Hound's hand on his elbow kept him on his feet. "Thank you," he mumbled with a tired smile.

"Sure." Hound assisted him over to a nozzle and turned on the water.

A warm spray cascaded down upon Mirage, and he sighed in relief, pulling Hound under the water with him and hugging him. He rested his head on his shoulder, lulled into further exhaustion by how relaxed he felt.

Hound held him close, slowly running his hand down his back. "Thanks," he whispered, pressing a kiss against the arch of Mirage's nose. "It was a wonderful gift."

"You're welcome." Mirage nuzzled the side of Hound's neck, drawing a faint shiver from him. "You seemed so at home there." He ran one hand down Hound's back as well, aiding the water in its efforts to wash off the dust and dirt clinging to them.

"Whereas you're most at home in the cityscapes of Cybertron." A hint of sadness infused Hound's voice.

Mirage smiled, unworried. "Variety is not the same as incompatibility. Until the war's over or our circumstances change, we'll live wherever we're most needed. After that, I'm sure we can figure out a compromise. Perhaps we can cycle in and out of various assignments that switch us back and forth between the two."

A beat of silence met his words, and Mirage paused, realizing the significance of what he'd said—on many levels.

Hound's arm snaked around his waist, hugging him closely. "An excellent plan."

Leaning back, Mirage met his gaze, realizing there was hope for them after all. "We'll find our way," he murmured, then leaned forward, catching Hound's lips with his own. Hound hesitated, then molded their mouths together, returning the kiss and then sucking gently on Mirage's lower lip. With a quiet "Mmm" of pleasure, Mirage slipped his glossa into Hound's mouth, and then suddenly they found themselves against the wall, kissing almost frantically and searching for sensitive spots on each other's frames.

Hound broke the kiss, his optics shining intensely with desire. "As much as I'd love to throw you on the floor and 'face you senseless—"

Mirage shivered at the mere idea.

"—we really should take things slow, or we'll end up regretting it."

With a sigh of resignation, Mirage nodded. "I know. And I do want us to succeed."

Hound hugged him closely again. "I honestly believe we will."

oOoOo

In the orns following their trip to Mt. Rainier, Mirage took a great deal of relief from Hound's patience, wanting to make sure that once they were officially back together, it would work. And it was because of that desire that Mirage found himself back in medbay, staring at Ratchet from across the medic's desk.

"Can I help you?" Ratchet asked, setting down his datapad.

Mirage entered the office and triggered the door shut, although he remained standing. "I keep recovering memories," he said bluntly. "Memories I don't want, but they're coming anyway. What do I do?"

Ratchet frowned with obvious concern. "Recovering memories? Explain, please."

"I seem to have memory blocks in my processor," Mirage said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I know I didn't put them there, and every time one fails, I get back memories I couldn't access before."

Nodding, Ratchet rubbed his chin with his fingers. "I see. Well, in that case we'll need to help you process the data from the memories and then store it normally."

"I'm not sure I trust you to do it." Mirage wasn't surprised at Ratchet's answer and even was willing to accept it, but he wanted to make his desires known. "You were awfully quick to make assumptions about me, even if you had been observing my behavior for vorns."

Ratchet's face grew expressionless, then he nodded faintly. "I probably deserved that. Okay, is there someone you _would_ trust to help you?"

Mirage paused and considered his options. Hound was too personally involved. Jazz had an excellent understanding of psychology, but he was a busy mech and also had been his lover briefly. The only mech he could think of who might understand but who had no personal involvement was Wheeljack. He cringed. "The only one I can think of is Wheeljack, but I know he has no training in this area and may be too uncomfortable with the idea."

"Wheeljack?" Ratchet sounded curious.

Shrugging, Mirage took a seat and folded his hands in his lap. "Despite his occasional absentmindedness, he's a thoroughly rational thinker, and he knows a bit about Towers' culture. Perhaps more to the point, he knew one of the mechs I'll be discussing, and he's always shown exceptional insight into personal and political issues, not just mechanical ones."

"A solid argument." Ratchet pulled a datapad from the top right drawer in his desk. "If he agrees to it, he'll need to sign an Alpha 9 form, presuming you want top-level confidentiality, and you'll need to sign a Delta 6 form."

"Of course I'll want confidentiality." Mirage frowned. "What is a Delta 6 form?"

Ratchet set the datapad on his desk and then tapped it with one finger. "It's a kind of exception clause to the Alpha 9 form, if you will. It grants Wheeljack permission to share with me what you discuss. It will be necessary since he's not a trained professional. It also absolves him from liability should a problem arise due to his lack of training."

Pondering the implications for a klik, Mirage finally nodded. "It only makes sense. Very well."

"Give me time to contact 'Jack and go over all the forms with him."

Taking the words for the dismissal they were, Mirage thanked him and left. To his relief, Ratchet contacted him as soon as his shift was over and asked him to come in to sign the Delta 6 form. Within two breems, Mirage found himself standing in front of Wheeljack's lab, trying to gather the courage to go through with his plan.

"I can do this," he muttered to himself, pressing the buzzer.

"Come in!" came the usually cheerful voice.

Assuming it was safe to enter, Mirage triggered the door and walked in. Wheeljack was kneeling in front of a dish-shaped contraption, connecting wires inside its side panel.

He looked up from his project. "Oh, hi there! I didn't know when I'd be seeing you."

"Thank you for agreeing to this," Mirage said, finding himself oddly nervous.

"No problem." Wheeljack capped the ends of the several wires and stood up. "I don't know how good I'll be at this, but I'm complimented that you chose me."

Mirage glanced away, staring at the computer terminal and its well-worn buttons. "Well, if nothing else you'll understand what I have to say about Sidewinder."

A snort met this pronouncement. "Oh, yeah." Wheeljack signed off of his terminal. "I know all about him." He headed toward the door, gesturing for Mirage to follow. "If it's okay with you, I think we should leave the base for this. 'Bots have a way of popping into my lab unexpectedly, and we'll need privacy."

Trailing after him, Mirage decided the idea was pragmatic. "Certainly. Where did you have in mind?"

"Bonnie Lure State Park," Wheeljack replied as they navigated the hallways. "It's fairly close, and we can find a secluded place to talk."

"Very well." Mirage mused that the choice was ironic, since he knew Hound loved the park. He and Trailbreaker were always visiting it during their free time.

Still, when Mirage and Wheeljack arrived and began making their way through the forest, he had to admit it was beautiful. The sun cast a glow through the leaves of the trees, many of which towered above their heads, and dappled the forest floor. The quiet songs of birds echoed in the distance, and Mirage decided he might be able to relax in such surroundings.

"So, do you want to start with Sidewinder or something else?" Wheeljack asked, stopping in a sizable clearing.

Mirage glanced around, concerned that humans might run across them or be close enough to hear them.

"Don't worry. I ran several extensive scans. We're alone." Wheeljack settled on the ground, propping up his knees and resting his arms on them.

After a moment's hesitation, Mirage sat by him, copying his posture. "Sure. That part is simple: I hate him." He sneered. "He's dead, and I still hate him."

"I can empathize," Wheeljack replied dryly.

Sighing, Mirage forced himself to go into more detail. "I was young when I met him, not much more than a youngling. He was roughly the same age, his processor filled with the idea of becoming an engineer." He traded a look with Wheeljack. "His creators were thoroughly against it, wanting him to be a musician. At any rate, he was highly talented and charming, and he had this way of focusing on me when we were together. It made me feel like I was the only 'bot in the room. Like I was special."

"Sounds familiar," Wheeljack murmured.

"Despite Skyrazor's disapproval of him—an opinion he managed to convince my creators to share—I continued to date him." Mirage frowned at the memory.

Wheeljack cocked his head to the side. "Skyrazor? Was that your tutor?"

Mirage nodded. "And he _hated_ Sidewinder. Said he was using me." He laughed at the irony. "Of course, in the end, he was right. Sidewinder was only interested in 'facing. Primus, sometimes he hardly waited until I'd walked through the door before he came onto me."

Releasing his blast mask, Wheeljack turned a smile on him. "I can assure you he never got any better about it."

Studying the surprisingly handsome face, Mirage noted the faint lattice work of lines that covered Wheeljack's cheeks. He wondered if he wore the mask to protect his face from further scarring or if he were embarrassed by his looks. "You know about scars, huh?" he asked quietly.

Wheeljack raised one hand to touch his exposed cheek. "Yeah. Several kinds of 'em."

"We all do, I suppose." Mirage turned his stare to the forest floor, where leaves and broken branches littered the ground. "Well, once I decided to speak up and try to get something from our relationship other than 'facing, Sidewinder got angry. When I stopped 'putting out', he became . . . abusive. It only took two trips to the medic to convince me it'd never get better."

"You're a lot stronger than most, then," Wheeljack said. "Or else a lot more realistic. Most 'bots would've hung in there and hoped for the best or simply been too afraid to try to leave."

Knocked off-balance by the praise, Mirage covered his face with his hands. "I don't deserve any compliments," he whispered, trembling with the force of his sudden bitterness and self-hate. "The only reason I pulled out so fast was because Skyrazor and my creators were pressuring me to. If not for them, I probably would've remained trapped forever." The self-loathing seemed to crash through his tank, making him gasp air through his intakes. Even in its weakened state, his bond with Hound flared to life, and he felt Hound's worry.

A warm arm slipped around his shoulders. "We're not all born courageous," Wheeljack said quietly. "Few of us are. Especially when we're young, we can't necessarily just stand up and walk away."

Finding he couldn't excuse himself so easily, Mirage kept his hands on his face and shook his head. "You must have. Sidewinder was ultimately clingy. He needed someone to use and hurt, so you must have just stood up one orn and left."

"Not without considerable effort," Wheeljack replied, hugging his shoulders. "And I was older."

Mirage dropped his hands and stared listlessly at the ground again. "Perhaps. But I can tell you one thing: I'll never forgive him. The things he did and said to me . . ." He shuddered, pushing the memories away. "I hate them all, Wheeljack," he whispered, offlining his optics in his pain. "I _hate_ them. They'll be my friend, but as soon as it becomes anything more, they grow cruel."

"I don't think it's 'them' you hate most," Wheeljack replied. "That anger in your voice, I recognize it. I used to speak that way, too, and the one I hated was myself. I couldn't forgive myself for letting Sidewinder use me, and I especially couldn't forgive myself for making the same mistake twice. I dated a femme named Moonwalker later, and although she didn't have the same hang-ups as Sidewinder, she wasn't any better to me."

Mirage reactivated his optics and slowly turned his gaze to meet Wheeljack's. "How did you do it, then? Why aren't you angry still? How'd you manage to have enough faith to trust and fall in love with Bluestreak?" The concept seemed nearly impossible to him.

A small smile graced Wheeljack's face. "The anger I let go of over time. But the biggest step I took was to forgive myself. It's not that I don't feel pain about it when I think about it now, because I do. But once I accepted that I can never be perfect, that mistakes are normal, and that I did the best I could at the time, I stopped hating myself."

"I don't deserve forgiveness." The words were out before Mirage realized he was going to say them, but he knew instantly he'd never said anything truer in his life.

"Forgiveness for what?" Wheeljack asked, his smile never faltering. "For being helpless as a sparkling? We all were. For not knowing what to do to help yourself? None of us do. It's something we have to learn. For being hurt and making bad choices based on that pain? We've all done that."

The pain became too intense, so Mirage grew detached and began analyzing the situation. "You still believe Skyrazor used me as an unpaid pleasure drone, don't you?"

Releasing his shoulders, Wheeljack shifted to face him. "I don't know what to think, and as an engineer, I know better than to assume anything without cold, hard facts to back it up. What I do know is that Skyrazor watched you possessively. And based on what you said, he violently disapproved of Sidewinder. If nothing else, his interest in you was unhealthy, and I'm willing to bet you suffered some nasty experiences as a result."

Somehow it seemed easy to admit now. "It's true. He was jealous of every 'bot I dated, even after I got my adult upgrades. He was jealous right through the moment I last saw him." He could remember those arguments clearly. He always had been able to. His memory of those fights wasn't foggy or spotty like the ones from earlier in his life.

"It's not your fault," Wheeljack replied.

Mirage frowned. "I didn't say it was."

"You don't have to. I spent too much time beating myself up for my mistakes to know how easy it is to blame yourself for things outside of your control." Wheeljack reached out and grasped his chin, forcing him to meet his gaze again. "Listen to me. _Really_ listen. It's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong. You're in no way, shape, or form responsible for Skyrazor's sickness. He was fragged in the head long before you were even built."

His emotions returning in a rush, Mirage began trembling again. He wanted to believe Wheeljack so badly he thought his spark would extinguish. "But I . . ." He was unable to continue and coolant pooled in his optics.

"Not your fault," Wheeljack repeated.

The anger seemed to burst out of him. "But he said it was!" Mirage grabbed Wheeljack's arms, squeezing them. "He said it was my fault, that I secretly wanted it, that—" He gasped as his processor flashed a warning at him, telling him something was wrong in his memory banks, and then he saw it, heard it, felt it, tasted it: memories of Skyrazor hurting him. He shrieked and slapped his hands to his temples. "No," he moaned, horrified. "No, Primus, no!"

Wheeljack gathered him in his arms, hugging him in that comforting way Jazz had. "Bullshit. No sparkling wants to be used, hurt, or abused. Even if they're confused. Even if they overload."

Mirage sat in his arms, shaking uncontrollably. He wasn't sure if he could _live_ with the pain, the overwhelming sense of dirtiness. But despite all that had happened, his bond flared open. He could feel the pressure from Hound's worry, his determination to reach him, and then a wave of concern washed through him. Mirage tried to close the connection, not wanting to pollute the one he loved, but Hound was pulling on him.

_::Let me help,::_ came a whisper over the bond. _::Let me carry some of the pain, even if you can't tell me what it's about.::_

The tide of pain seemed to decrease thanks to Hound's mere presence, and Mirage realized that by stopping to listen to the bond, he'd allowed some of the emotion to funnel into Hound. Still, Hound didn't pull away. It seemed he wasn't going to let Mirage suffer alone.

Strengthened and reassured, Mirage sat up and met Wheeljack's gaze again. "Not my guilt to bear?" It seemed such a strange concept.

"That's right." Wheeljack was watching him carefully. "What happened just now?"

Mirage shuddered. "I seem to have artificial blocks in my memory banks. One of them gave away."

"Memory blocks." Wheeljack fingered his chin. "That's something I definitely can help with. But maybe we better start with what you just remembered."

Uneasy, Mirage crossed his arms over his abdomen and didn't reply.

Wheeljack settled back onto the ground and relaxed again. "I'm not pushing you. We can talk more about Sidewinder instead. Or you can tell me something small that you remembered."

_Fight it._ Jazz's voice seemed to echo in his processor. _It's worth fighting for._ Mirage nodded to himself and gathered his nerve. "Fine." He tentatively touched the mass of new memories he now had and found he remembered his first turbofox hunting trip and what had happened afterward. "I can remember when Skyrazor first took me hunting," he began, determined to push his way through it, even if it were only one step at a time.

* * *

_Postscript: Thank you to the following for the reviews and support: Dvana, Independent.C., Dazja, Jovianokamigirl, Hellen, Illusion224, Starstreak 777, Apocrypha Blessing, GreyLiliy, Carmilla DeWinter, OrianPrime92, and Evil Killer Poptarts (I love your screen name)._


	6. What Healing Is Not

**A/N: Maturity warning. Also, this chapter briefly references "Megatron's Master Plan, Part 2."**

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_"Rape's not something where you just go, "Well, get over it"  
or "Believe in love and peace, my child, and it'll all be over."  
[…] That's not healing.  
It was a very long time after that before  
I was able to be with anyone again.  
And it has never been the same as it was before"_  
--Tori Amos

_**Chapter 6: What Healing Is Not **_

In the town square of Central City, Mirage stood by Hound and watched Optimus Prime and the mayor going through various formalities in front of the cameras. Now that Megatron's plan to enslave the humans had been overthrown and Shawn Berger was being held in jail without bond, awaiting his trial, the Mayor had invited the Autobots to return for the sake of a charity race. Mirage, along with several others, was feeling a bit human-weary after being kicked off the planet by the gullible creatures, but since Optimus had already agreed to let his troops race in the Europa 2000 in the spring, he'd agreed to Central City's race as well.

::I'm not sure why we're doing this,:: Mirage told Hound over his comm. link. ::The last time we entered a race for charity, Ironhide nearly got eaten by a fanged trash compactor.::

Hound chuckled and hid his smile behind his hand. ::I'd rather be in this race than back at base helping with Wheeljack's and Perceptor's little science project.::

::You mean the one that will blow the Ark back to Cybertron?:: Mirage asked, not unkindly. His friendship with Wheeljack had grown exponentially in the last thirty orns. He wasn't sure why, but letting Wheeljack assist him in talking through his sickening memories had not only helped immensely but also had won him a new friend.

Shaking his head, Hound resumed pretending like he was paying attention to the mayor's speech. ::Yep, that one.::

Mirage stared at the crowd, which was packed into the closed-off square. Someone had made white balloons with red Autobot symbols, and to Mirage, it made the crowd look twice as big, almost as though there were a cluster of extra human heads. ::Still, I'm not too keen on being here again, especially after the humans showed us how easily they turn on their allies. One piece of faked evidence, and we nearly get melted by the sun. Have they never heard of loyalty?::

::That's a bit harsh.:: Hound frowned. ::We were nearly flown into the sun because Megatron sabotaged Teletraan I, and the humans didn't ask for us to bring our war here.::

Alarmed, Mirage reached over and squeezed his hand. ::I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry.::

Returning the squeeze, Hound pulled away. ::It's okay. A lot of us are feeling burned—no pun intended—because of what happened here. I think that's why Prime wants us to do the race.:: He wiggled his fingers, drawing attention to his hand. ::Be careful. The humans might see, and you know how confused they get about our relationships."

Mirage glanced back at the humans and cocked his head. ::Shouldn't we to do things like hold hands on purpose, then, so they can learn about us and adjust?:: He shrugged. "Besides, they're organic, and we're mechanical. We don't even reproduce sexually. I still don't understand why they would think their gender and social constructs apply to us.::

::I dunno.:: Hound stole a look at him and grinned. ::I just know Spike and Sparkplug nearly fainted when they walked in on Jazz stealing a kiss from Prowl ten orns ago.::

The humans began clapping, and Optimus waved toward his soldiers. "All right, Autobots. Line up!"

Mirage followed the others over to the starting line. The race was being held in the city's downtown streets, which had been blocked off for the purpose. A dozen 'bots had already made a bet on who the winner would be.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were shoving each other. "I'll leave you in my dust," Sideswipe was saying.

"Not a chance." Sunstreaker sneered at him.

"Hey you guys, this is just for fun." Jazz pushed his way in between them, keeping them apart as they lined up.

However, Mirage was still pondering the humans' misperception. ::Maybe we should have them all us 'it' instead.::

Hound laughed again. ::I love your dry sense of humor.:: He shook his head as they lined up side-by-side. ::Still, 'it' sounds a bit too impersonal, don't you think? Besides, we speak English because the Ark is in the United States, and in English, any pronoun with an unspecified referent is 'he' or 'him' by default.::

Unable to stop himself, Mirage had to laugh as well. "Why do I get the feeling you had to look all that terminology up in order to help Bumblebee explain Jazz and Prowl to Sparkplug and Spike?" he asked aloud, unconcerned with the look of confusion Bluestreak gave them.

"Because I did." Hound's grin grew wider. "Otherwise, why would I normally think about it? Teletraan just downloaded all the language modules to us, and I took them for granted."

"_Moi, aussi,_" Mirage replied, deadpan.

Hound laughed again, this time loud enough to draw everyone's attention, and Mirage smiled softly. Not many people appreciated his odd sense of humor, but Hound was one of them, something he was profoundly grateful for. Still, the topic of humans' assumptions reminded him of the series of assumptions that had intensified Hound's and his problem. Ratchet's assumption, Hound's assumption, even his own assumption. Every assumption made had ultimately hurt them more, needlessly complicating the situation. _But leave it to Jazz to make sure I don't assume my relationship with Hound won't work,_ Mirage thought, saddened that it had come to that. Yet at the same time, he knew his cynicism about the universe wasn't ultimately misplaced. Too many 'bots had hurt him for him to find it easy to trust.

"Autobots, transform!" Optimus yelled.

Mirage initiated his transformation with a series of metallic clicks and settled onto his wheels. On his left, Hound revved his engine, and on his right, Bluestreak did the same. Smokescreen, Cliffjumper, and Tracks filled out the list of competitors. Mirage awaited the flag-bearing human to give the signal, and then tore away to the smell of burnt rubber as he and his fellow Autobots zoomed down the street. The humans yelled and clapped, some screaming encouragement to their favorite mech.

Pulling into the lead alongside Jazz, Mirage relaxed at the feel of the wind caressing his chassis. _Speed is freedom,_ he thought absently, peeling around a corner. Humans and their ridiculously narrow streets! _Racing is freedom._ He listened with half an audio as the Twins caught up with them and Jazz baited them. _Maybe all I ever wanted or needed was freedom: freedom from Skyrazor, freedom from the Towers' restrictive society, freedom from all the anger and pain._ He peeled around another corner, and finding himself on a straight stretch, poured on the fuel, leaving Jazz and the bickering Twins behind. _Freedom seems to come from truth,_ he reflected, _but it also seems to be my choice. I'm choosing to work through all this. Healing isn't something that'll just fall on me out of the sky._

Comforted by the thought he had some power and control over his life and state of mind, Mirage felt unthreatened as Jazz and the Twins caught up with him again. In the end, he tied with Jazz, hurtling across the finish line at such a speed he was hard-pressed to come to a safe halt and transform. The humans were cheering, Sunstreaker was cursing, and his fellow Autobots were congratulating Jazz and him.

But all he really cared about was the soft smile Hound was giving him. _To fight to heal so I can enjoy a relationship with Hound,_ Mirage thought. _It truly is worth it. But it's even more worth it just to find peace. I'm doing this for him, but not just him. I'm doing it for me, too. But somehow I must thank Hound for being patient enough to wait for me and not just tell me to hurry up and get over it._

Mirage barely paid attention to the award ceremony since all the money was going to a local children's charity and would have regardless of which mech won. He wasn't sure why humans had to be bribed with entertainment to give to worthy charities, but he decided he didn't mind helping.

However, his real award came when the Autobots split up, some heading to patrol, some to the Ark, and others out to have fun. Mirage strolled up to Hound, grinning. "Ready for our patrol?"

Hound returned the smile and nodded. "Sure. Lead the way!"

"Aren't you the scout?" Despite teasing him, Mirage transformed again and headed out of the city. Their route had them covering the forests to the northwest of the Ark, and Mirage groaned internally as they left the highway and pulled onto the dirt road that headed into the trees. He never had entirely adjusted to the planet's excessive amount of dirt, although it bothered him some days more than others.

"The leaves are beginning to turn," Hound noted. "Aren't they beautiful?"

Mirage shuddered as they drove through a patch of mud, then forced his attention to the trees. Crimson, orange, and yellow leaves decorated the branches, and their color was set off by the equally crimson swath of sky overhead. Mirage knew sunset was second only to dawn as Hound's favorite time of orn. The last of the chirping crickets sang a chorus in the cool evening. "Indeed," he replied after a pause.

"Disgusted by the mud?" Hound guessed. "I'll help you get it all off later."

Relieved to hear this, Mirage relaxed. "Sounds lovely." He'd gotten to the point he felt jealous when he'd walk in on Jazz and Prowl or Red Alert and Inferno helping each other clean hard-to-reach places. Hound and he had helped each other before, simply as friends, and seeing other bondmates together in such a way hurt.

The truth was, though, that the one topic they hadn't worked through was interfacing, and Mirage wasn't comfortable discussing the problem with Wheeljack during their talks since it involved Hound. Granted, Ratchet's observation that Mirage had once been promiscuous was true, but he'd always been highly careful with how much access he'd given his lovers. Mostly, he'd refused to engage in a full interface, not trusting them to be tied directly into his systems. He'd relied on other means, sometimes very creative ones, to ensure he and his partner overloaded.

"Given Megatron's latest abuse of us, I honestly hope we don't run across any 'Cons," Hound was saying.

Deciding enough was enough, Mirage rolled to a stop and transformed. "Can we discuss something?"

"Sure." Hound halted beside him and transformed as well. "What's wrong?" He pulled Mirage into his arms, hugging him tightly.

Comforted by the level of simple intimacy they were able to maintain, Mirage rested his head on his shoulder. "Things are going well, don't you agree?"

"Definitely." Hound ran one hand up and down his back slowly. "We've made a ton of progress."

"But at some point we're going to have to talk about interfacing." Mirage bit his lip, worried.

Hound pulled back enough to press a kiss against the tip of his nose. "Well, it looks like we're discussing it now. Are you suggesting we should, uh, intensify our relationship?"

Mirage frowned, afraid of making a mistake. "When we're both ready. But I want to make sure we understand what each other needs first."

For several kliks, Hound was silent. "I guess my needs are fairly basic. Some would say boring, maybe, but my ultimate desire is to pleasure you."

Mirage knew what he was referring to, although after Wheeljack's and his long talks about Skyrazor, he wasn't sure he still wanted Hound to punch him during interfacing, anyway. At the same time, however, he did know his needs would never be 'basic.' He had several fantasies he enjoyed playing out, fantasies that were both possible and wonderful if he found someone he trusted.

Finally, Mirage gathered enough courage to reply, but he buried his face into Hound's neck as he spoke. "I had reasons, you know. Reasons to have asked you to do those things. And there are things . . ." He paused, all the memories he'd recovered warring in his processor. "Things you don't know."

"Tell me," Hound whispered. "I love you, and I have for longer than you realize. I want to understand." He leaned back, separating them slightly, and cupped Mirage's cheek in his hand.

Terrified, Mirage stared at Hound's chest, to the left of his Autobot insignia. "But what if . . . what if you're disgusted?" In his own mind, he knew he was used goods, or rather spoiled goods. Would Hound really want to be with him if he knew? "I know I would be. What if—"

"Shhh." Hound moved his fingers over Mirage's lips. "I suspect I have some idea of what you're going to say, and I'm still standing here loving you. I can handle it, I promise."

"Does it matter if you can handle hearing it? You're missing the point." Mirage's fear began to swell, making him feel irritated. Did Hound really know something? He couldn't, or he wouldn't still want to touch him. "And what am I supposed to do? Admit to some sparklinghood trauma, cry all over you, and then be healed?" The injustice contained in what he remembered made him upset and nauseated. "It was normal, Hound. Based on what I've remembered, it's obvious we Towers younglings all went through the same thing."

"_All?_" Hound sounded disturbed, and he shook his head. "Even if that's true, it doesn't make it right." He pulled Mirage back into a hug. "If you tell me, then at least I can understand, right? Or try to."

Even after all his talks with Wheeljack, Mirage still felt a blackness inside—a darkness of pain, hate, self-blame, guilt, and fear. "And what if after you hear it, you don't love me anymore?"

"Not going to happen," Hound whispered. "We've gone through too much to give up now."

That much was true, Mirage reasoned. Even after all that had passed between them, Hound was still there, hugging him. "I'm not ready to tell you yet," he replied. "I need a bit more time." _And courage,_ he thought. _But I am choosing to be healed,_ he reminded himself. _I choose to never give up._

oOoOo

By the time their patrol was finished, they were both covered in mud and dirt. Hound chatted away happily about the beauty of the full moon and Earth's excellent view of the galaxy, while Mirage wanted nothing more than to get to the washracks and rid himself of the caked-on mud. In fact, as soon as they reached the base, he headed straight there, knowing they'd be the last pair back.

"We should have the washracks to ourselves," Mirage said with relief as they entered. Steam fogged the room, showing that the other patrols had indeed been in and out already. "This is perhaps the only benefit of working the night shift."

Hound walked to the back, where the room was warmest. "You have a point." He turned on the nozzle and motioned for Mirage. "The room's already warm, and we don't have to share it."

Grinning, Mirage joined him, turning on a second nozzle and aiming it so they'd both be hit by the cascading water. They soaped up and cleaned the front of their frames, and then Hound grabbed a sponge, filling it with cleaner, and began scrubbing Mirage's back.

"Humans do have some good ideas," Mirage sighed, relaxing under the smooth strokes. "Why didn't we think of sponges?"

Hound chuckled. "Stretch for me. I need to get into the seams."

Holding his hands above his head, Mirage stretched and shivered in relief as he felt chunks of mud being knocked free. Hound worked the soft sponge into the seams, cleaning the open cockpit and making his way down Mirage's back. He smiled at the gentle hands that seemed to worship his body.

When Hound was finished, Mirage plucked the sponge from his fingers. "Your turn."

Hound grinned and turned around. "Far be it from me to resist."

Mirage smiled and filled the sponge again. "You're so patient," he murmured, running the sponge slowly down Hound's back. "Patient with me. Patient with the humans. Patient with the endless dirt and dust of this planet." He dipped into Hound's hip seam, dislodging the mud and lingering even after it was clean.

Hound shivered. "Scouts are trained to be patient."

"That's fortunate." Mirage knelt behind him, running the sponge down his inner thighs and drawing a small shudder from him. Once he was finished, he stood and let the water wash off the suds. He found himself watching the water droplets bead on Hound's face and chassis, noting the graceful arc of one drop as it traced over his lips. Mesmerized, he stepped forward, brushing his fingertips where the droplet had been.

Hound smiled. "What is it?" he asked quietly.

Not wanting to over-think the situation, Mirage leaned in and pressed his lips against Hound's, then pulled back for a moment, weighing his decision. He wanted them to live as bondmates, and he also wanted to prove to himself that they could interface successfully. To him, it seemed to be the last barrier between them, except for telling Hound the truth of his past. And he wasn't ready to do that.

"Mirage?" Hound whispered.

Deciding he was safe with Hound, Mirage slipped his arms around his neck, molding their lips together and pulling him close. Hound responded to the kiss, catching his bottom lip and sucking it gently, and Mirage ran his hands over Hound's back, mapping the transformation seams and setting off sensory nodes. When Hound moaned, Mirage slipped in his glossa, slowly and thoroughly exploring his mouth.

Hound moaned more deeply and leaned into him, then pulled away suddenly. "Um, we might get carried away here."

"Maybe we should," Mirage whispered, brushing his lips over Hound's. "I still owe you an overload."

Hound grabbed his hands. "You don't owe me anything."

Extracting his hands, Mirage backed Hound against the wall. "Shhh. It's all right. I _want_ to do this." He ran his hand down Hound's chest, stopping to caress the pulley system attached above his bumper.

Hound gasped, arching into the touch. "Mirage! Someone could walk in on us."

"At this time of night? Third shift's still on patrol and will be for another two joors." Mirage decided even the faintest possibility of getting caught was actually arousing, but he paused to see if Hound would protest again, not wanting him to be uncomfortable.

Hound, though, relaxed against the wall. "If you're sure."

Nodding, Mirage pulled him into another kiss before nipping his way down Hound's neck. Hound leaned his head back against the washrack wall, exposing his neck further, and Mirage located a think cable and sucked on it, drawing shivers from his bondmate. At the same time, he returned his hand to the pulley system, working his fingertips into the joints that attached it to his frame and setting off sensory nodes there.

Gasping, Hound clutched his shoulders. "M-mirage!"

Intrigued, he kissed his way down Hound's chassis and flicked his glossa into the places his fingers had just left, teasing the nodes. Hound moaned and squeezed him in a sudden embrace.

"Sensitive?" Mirage asked with a wicked little smile.

Hound nodded, and excited with the possibilities, Mirage guided him to lie on the floor. Once Hound had settled on his back, Mirage straddled him and shivered faintly at the feel of the warm water that still pattered against his frame and ran under them towards the drain. Beads of moisture stood on Hound's headlights, drawing Mirage's attention there, and he leaned down, licking the cool drops away with his glossa. Hound shuddered in pleasure, so he moved to the other headlight, tracing its contours slowly. Then he returned to an especially sensitive bundle of sensor wires he'd found next to Hound's pulley system and sucked them gently into his mouth before stroking them with his glossa.

Arching his back off the floor, Hound grasped his waist tightly and shouted in pleasure. When Mirage paused, not wanting him to overload too quickly, Hound panted, pulling cooler air through his intakes. "Mirage, don't stop . . . please don't stop."

Not wanting to release his hold on the wires in his mouth, Mirage didn't reply but rather began lapping them with his glossa once more. Hound writhed underneath him, moaning his name, and Mirage felt his processor buzz with the sight and sound of such pleasure. Aroused, he took control of his energy field and slowly pushed it through Hound, electrifying their entire sensory nets in the process. Hound collapsed against the floor, gasping air through his intakes.

Mirage finally released the wires. "You're gorgeous like this," he whispered, admiring the slope of Hound's neck, his dimmed optics, the rise and fall of his chest as he panted. He traced one thumb over Hound's headlight, drawing another shiver from him. "Gorgeous." He sucked the wires back into his mouth and began sending his energy field through Hound's in pulsating waves.

Dropping his hands to the floor, Hound clawed the metal in a desperate attempt for purchase, and the scratching sound mixed with his returned moans. Mirage shivered as his sensory network began to align with Hound's, sending tingles through them, and ran one hand down Hound's frame to his interface panel. "How should I overload you?" he asked, letting the wires slip from his mouth even as his fingers slid the panel door open.

"Mirage! Ahhh . . ." Hound pressed his hips upwards faintly, as though searching for more contact.

"Should I just use my energy field?" He filtered a wave through their fields, drawing a gasp from them both. "Should I tease your interfacing hardware?" He pulled the coiled cord free of Hound's chamber, running it through his hands, stroking it, and caressing the tip with his fingers.

Apparently unable to take anymore, Hound overloaded with a shout, clutching Mirage's waist again as he writhed from the pleasure. Blue energy danced along his joints and relays, casting a brief glow on his armor, then he collapsed against the floor, looking utterly spent.

Although Mirage didn't overload, he found he didn't care. A relaxed, aroused Hound was just too beautiful. _Pleasuring_ Hound was just too beautiful.

"I'm sorry," Hound whispered, rebooting his optics and meeting Mirage's gaze. "I couldn't hold on any longer when you started talking like that, but—"

Mirage put one finger over his lips. "'But' nothing. This was for you." He replaced his finger with his lips, kissing Hound gently. "I should apologize for rushing us."

"It's okay." Hound reached up and gently ran the back of his fingers over Mirage's cheek. "We have self-control. Just because we got a little carried away doesn't mean we can't return to a slower pace."

Mirage nodded and clasped Hound's hand, pressing a kiss against his fingers. He decided that the answering look he received had to be one of love. Their bond buzzed with the warmth of it. "I guess we'll just have to . . ." He paused, realizing the significance of what he was going to say. "We'll just have to talk it out as we go."

Hound's glowing smile was far more exquisite than anything his beloved nature had to offer.

oOoOo

Hound was relaxing in his favorite forest clearing, his processor stuck on the memory of Mirage thoroughly making love to him. He was shocked by Mirage's choice of venue, but he found himself spending more time thinking of Mirage's sexy banter at the end. He'd spent so much time thinking about it that he'd nearly lost his focus during his patrol earlier, and now he was imagining things he could say in return. He was fairly sure that a goofy grin graced his face, but with only birds, deer, and insects to see it, he didn't care.

"Yer performance rating is back to normal."

Hound jumped and stood to face Jazz. "Try not to sneak up on a 'bot like that!"

Jazz grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "Sorry. Force of habit. I just wanted to tell ya how happy I am to see Mirage's and yer performance ratings return to normal."

Hound smiled. "Things are better."

"I noticed." Jazz settled on the ground, motioning for Hound to sit again, and leaned back against a thick tree trunk. "You're dating regularly now. Goin' well, I take it."

"Extremely. We're taking it slow." Hound sat back down and glanced away, embarrassed to be discussing the topic with Jazz again. Still, Jazz seemed to be the best one to air his thoughts to. "We, uh, got a bit ahead of ourselves the other night, but other than that, we've been dating like a normal couple. And we've begun talking about things."

"Things?"

Hound met Jazz's gaze and found himself wondering just what facial expression his visor hid. "Oh, like what we really want out of a relationship and what we definitely don't want. Even who does what. Like, he's more of a neat freak than I am, but he tends to forget to refuel. So we've been discussing who'll be responsible for what." He hesitated and cringed. "The only thing we haven't really talked much about is . . . 'facing."

"But, hey, yer buildin' a solid foundation." Jazz gave him a huge grin. "I think it's awesome. But why do ya think ya can't talk about 'facing?"

With a sigh, Hound glanced into the sea of fir trees around them, watching the branches sway in the wind. "I'm afraid to ask about it." He decided to be blunt. "It's what started this whole mess. Everything I said just made it worse, and I really, honestly don't understand Mirage's, uh, kinks."

Jazz tugged on Hound's elbow, forcing him to turn and look at him. "None of them?"

Hound thought he might die of embarrassment. _Am I seriously going to have this conversation with Jazz?_ He watched Jazz's patient expression, trying to decide how open he wanted to be. _Still, I have to face the problem somehow._ "Keep all this confidential, okay?"

"Of course."

Hound stared at his lap, feeling awkward. "Well, one of my past lovers and I used magnacuffs sometimes. But whips or punching?" He shuddered, unable to comprehend how pleasure and pain could possibly be related.

"Fair enough. No one's asking you to like it or even agree with it. But ya do already know you two will have to find something that works." Jazz squeezed his arm lightly. "Not that ya should do something that makes ya uncomfortable, but Mirage's got some potent fantasies he's not goin' to wanna give up."

Staring at him, Hound forced himself to keep talking. "I could . . . I could handle bondage. I've at least tried it before, and it was okay." He clutched his hands in his lap, picking at his own fingers. "Kinda depends on the partner, I guess. But it doesn't bother me if the other 'bot likes it. Whatever makes 'em happy."

"That's the way to look at it." Jazz snapped his fingers as though he'd gotten an idea. "Hey, remember when ya used to train the scoutin' recruits? Think ya can still do yer command voice?"

"My command voice?" Hound felt profoundly confused. "Use my command voice on _Mirage_?"

"It's role-playing!" Jazz gently slapped him on the shoulder. "An act. It's not like you'd treat him that way in real life."

Hound scrubbed his forehead with one hand, trying to comprehend it all. "But I don't think I can hurt him."

"Ya won't be." Jazz gave him a small smile. "Okay, let's break this down. Mirage's got a lot goin' on, and it's not all related. He's got this button or trigger that can get pushed that's separate from his fantasies. That's the one that probably flipped ya out, and I ain't gonna lie to ya. It's comin' from a dark place."

"The punching," Hound whispered.

Jazz nodded. "When his trigger goes off, then he's not really with ya anymore. He's in the past. Ya understand?"

"I think I have an idea, anyway." Hound gave him a sad half-smile.

Jazz raised one finger. "However, ya can't confuse that with his fantasies. He's got several, but he'll explain them before ya even try to do anythin' with them. Does that make sense?"

Hound stared at the ground where he'd trampled fallen leaves under his feet. "Yeah. I've heard about or known mechs who liked to role-play during 'facing. I always assumed they wanted to spice things up or something."

"Probably. Find the right thing for ya, and it _can_ be fun." Jazz grinned. "And yer job is simple: ya just give him as much pleasure as ya can. Yer actin' out a role, and the better ya do it, the more he gets outta it." He shrugged. "It's not like he won't work with ya, and it's not like ya have to role-play every time ya 'face. I wasn't comfortable with some stuff he mentioned when we decided to mess around, and he never got mad at me for it. It's like . . . negotiation. We just discussed it until we worked out somethin' we both liked."

Unable to look up from the ground, Hound rubbed his palms together absently. "But what _is_ he getting out of it?"

Jazz leaned closer, as though sharing the secret of the universe. "Freedom from responsibility. He's temporarily givin' all the responsibility to _you_. That's what all his fantasies come down to." He grabbed Hound's chin and forced him to look up. "He's givin' ya his trust. All of it. It's the only space he can get into right now where he _can_ give someone all his trust, but for that time, ya have it. And in his mind, because all the responsibility is yers, he's free to feel as much pleasure as he can without any guilt or stress. It's like . . . a commander who lets someone else take control for awhile. It's a relief for him."

Feeling the cables in his frame relaxing, Hound pondered what Jazz had said. "Give me all his trust?" he repeated, touched.

"Yep." Jazz smiled. "Just let him explain them to you. Then you two can work toward a place where ya can both take care of each other's needs, even if it means takin' turns."

Hound considered the advice and nodded. "I just . . . the way it went down, it didn't seem like . . ." His sentence trailed off as he fought to find words for what had gone wrong.

"Mirage has some strange beliefs about 'bots," Jazz said quietly. "Stuff his past experiences made him think had to be true about everyone. So he probably made some assumptions about you, and then he probably thought yer refusal to punch him meant you were judgin' him. He probably thought he was bein' totally rejected."

Pressing his fingers against his temples, Hound fought against the processor ache trying to bloom in his head. "I think I see what went wrong." He stole a glance at Jazz. "Just what kinda fantasies are we talking here?"

Jazz chuckled. "Well, ya really need to discuss this with Mirage, not me. But since he's in such a sticky place right now, maybe it'd be best if I gave ya some insight. So let me give ya a crash course on Common Mirage Fantasies and some advice on what does and doesn't work with 'em."

"Sounds good." Hound decided to reserve judgment. Although he wouldn't compromise his own feelings or comfort level, he knew he could handle some kink as long as it was bringing Mirage pleasure.

* * *

_Postscript: Many thanks to the following for their continued support, encouragement, comments, and reviews: OrianPrime92, Evil Killer Poptarts, Carmilla DeWinter, Independent.C., Joviankamigirl, Starstreak777, and Hellen. I appreciate you guys, and all my readers, for sticking with me through this story, given it's a lot darker at first than my others have been. But we're working our way to a closing now. Unless I change something at the last minute, you've got one more chapter and an epilogue to go. (Oh, and I went back late last week and cleaned up typos a few of you had mentioned and straightened out some sentence constructions I didn't like.)_


	7. Friendship and Love

**Warnings: allusions to/discussions of sexual abuse and, unsurprisingly, Hound attempting role-playing.**

_"The greatest healing therapy is friendship and love."_  
- Hubert H. Humphrey

_**Chapter 7: Friendship and Love**_

Standing before the door to Mirage's quarters, Hound gathered his courage. He'd approached the orangey-gold door hundreds of times and never thought anything of it. But today he'd been invited for a specific purpose: to be a part of Mirage's therapy session. Mirage and Wheeljack had been meeting regularly for sixty orns now, and Hound knew they were making progress. The signs were obvious: Mirage smiled more often, was more relaxed, and had let the bond ease open. In the meantime, Hound and he had continued taking their relationship slowly, not interfacing but still learning to see each other as mates. And now . . .

Hound reached out and hit the door comm., activating the buzzer.

"Come in." Mirage's voice spoke through the miniature speaker, and the door slid open.

Hound entered the cabin and found Mirage sitting on the couch and Wheeljack in the chair. To his surprise, Wheeljack had his blast mask open, revealing his smile. He'd only seen Wheeljack without his mask once before: during his bonding ceremony with Bluestreak and the following reception. For a moment, Hound wondered if Mirage and Wheeljack were actually healing each other or if Wheeljack were simply signaling to Mirage that he trusted him as well. _Perhaps both,_ he thought as he crossed the room.

"Sit here." Mirage grinned at him and patted the couch seat.

Hound slipped onto the couch and took Mirage's hand, squeezing it. "Thank you for letting me come." The symbolism of the act wasn't lost on him. Mirage's choice to have him there told him he was trusted, included, and accepted.

"Thank you for coming," Mirage replied, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Hound smiled and returned the kiss, then turned to face Wheeljack. "So, how does this work?"

Wheeljack crossed his arms over his chest and relaxed into the chair. "Well, you know I'm no professional. All I have to base my 'approach' on is the time I spent in counseling vorns and vorns ago, when a long-term relationship I as in exploded."

Mirage made a soft "Mmm" of sympathy, and Hound glanced at him, amazed by his level of emotional engagement.

"So basically I've just been asking questions that seemed important." Wheeljack shrugged faintly. "And we've talked about things that bother Mirage or things he knows he needs to tackle." He grinned. "Mostly I'm a glorified sounding-board."

Mirage snorted. "You're more than that. You're attentive, and you even finished that psychology cyber-course in thirty orns flat!"

For a moment, Hound found himself jealous of the admiration and respect Mirage clearly felt for Wheeljack. Of their friendship, even. Hound had been surprised when Mirage told him that Wheeljack had contacted an ex-psychology professor back on Cybertron and arranged to take a counseling course via Teletraan I. But Hound trampled his envy, reminding himself that inclusion was the reason he was there.

Wheeljack was shaking his head. "Ah, I just hate doing things half-afted." He turned his attention back to Hound. "As I'm sure Mirage has told you, one specific thing we've been doing is tackling the blocks Skyrazor put in his memory."

Hound nodded. Mirage had been telling him bits and pieces about Skyrazor and the memory blocks.

"According to my scans, Mirage has one more block left." Wheeljack pulled a small, boxy device with cords from his subspace. "He wanted you to be here when we removed it."

"What do I do?" Hound asked quietly, hoping it meant that Mirage really had learned to trust him.

Mirage scooted closer. "It's usually quite painful," he whispered. "I'd really like for you to hold me during this. I think I know what the memory will be, and it won't be anything pleasant, that's for sure."

Reaching up and caressing his cheek, Hound smiled and nodded. "Sure." He wrapped his arm around Mirage's shoulders, pulling him close, and Mirage pressed into his side.

"Good." Wheeljack stood and walked over. "This is a memory scanner," he told Hound as he opened a small panel in Mirage's helm. "It can detect and remove blocks, kinda like they're viruses."

"Okay." Hound decided it made a great deal of sense.

Wheeljack plugged the input cable into Mirage's helm. "Here we go. The scanner's already recorded the location of the final block, so it'll only take a klik or two for it to return to the spot and dissolve it."

Mirage squeezed Hound's arm—the one not wrapped around his shoulders—in a brutal grip. "I hate this part," he whispered, shuddering.

"Remember," Wheeljack said, "keep pulling air through your intakes. If you don't, your systems will overheat, and you'll end up in stasis lock."

Mirage nodded and inhaled deeply, and Hound could feel his tension radiating through their bond. Then Mirage suddenly stiffened and cried out. Hound gasped in pain, feeling like someone had shot him through the head, and clutched Mirage to him.

"Talk," Wheeljack said, unplugging the device and then kneeling beside Mirage. "Don't hold it in."

"Mmmm." Mirage shook his head, then spoke in a wavering voice. "It's w-what I thought it'd be. It's the memory of what happened when I broke up with Sidewinder. Instead of just being happy, Skyrazor beat me and . . . and r-raped me. He said I should've known better than to date someone in the first place. That I was his property, and by dating Sidewinder, all I'd done was prove what a s-slut I was."

The energon in Hound's fuel lines seemed to freeze. _That's sick!_ He growled with a faint engine-rev, enraged. "You're no slut," he said, wishing Skyrazor was still alive so he could kill him with his bare hands. It wasn't an impulse he often had. "And you're certainly no one's _property_."

Mirage shuddered. "I know. I _know._"

"But will you let go of your hate for him?" Wheeljack asked Mirage. "Remember: it's your choice."

Mirage was nodding. "Yes, my cognitive choice: release my hate for him. Reject the lies he tried to instill in me." He sounded like he was repeating a mantra. He drew a huge draught of air through his intakes and then exhaled it slowly. "I release my hate toward Skyrazor. I reject the lie that I am his property. I reject the lie that I am a slut."

Hound raised one optic ridge at Wheeljack in a silent question.

"We've found this works best," Wheeljack explained quietly. "Saying things out loud seems to help him most, and he's been working on letting go of his rage and his misperception of himself." He cocked his head, apparently studying Hound closely. "But releasing hate leaves a void, and that void needs to be filled with something positive."

Hound hugged Mirage closer. "I can help with that."

Wheeljack looked back to Mirage. "Focus on the bond. Open it completely, just like we practiced."

"All right." Mirage offlined his optics momentarily and relaxed.

Hound felt pressure in the bond, like water building up behind a dam. Then, suddenly, Mirage's emotions and conscious burst through, and Hound gasped at the flood: pain, sadness, and exhaustion. Instinctively, Hound accepted all the feelings and returned love to him. _::It's okay,::_ he found himself saying over the bond. _::I love you. You're beautiful and precious. It'll all be okay.::_

_::Hound . . .::_ Mirage collapsed against his side, running one arm around his waist and weeping in relief.

Wheeljack patted Mirage's knee and then stood. "He's already worked through a lot of memories like this one. Just let him talk it out, and keep loving him. I'll be across the hall. Comm. me if you need me."

Hound nodded, and Wheeljack left the room quietly. For several minutes, Hound simply hugged Mirage and caressed his back as he calmed down. Then Mirage pulled away and stared at his lap.

"I guess it'd be best if I told you the whole story," he said, cringing. "You'll have guessed most of it by now, anyway, but I'm still going to warn you that what you'll hear is very dark."

"My promise stands," Hound told him gently. "I love you, and I always will."

Sighing, Mirage stood and wandered over to his holophoto display on the wall, touching the frame with his fingertips. Various cityscapes and landscapes flashed slowly on the screen, fading in and out: the Crystal Towers, the Celestial Temple, the Imperial Amphitheater, and of course, the Towers.

"Even if you can't accept it, with us bonded, I really can't keep you from finding out in the end," Mirage said quietly, keeping his back toward Hound. "Just remember that once you know something, you can't really ever un-know it. You may be sorry."

Hound could feel Mirage's fear and pushed as much reassurance over their bond as he could. He stood, but didn't approach, deciding to give Mirage space for the time being. "I am prepared to pay that price."

Mirage's hand grew still on the holophoto frame. "If you are certain." He drew a deep breath of air through his intakes, paused, and then continued. "The story is oddly simple: Once there was a sparkling named Mirage, who lived in the Towers. In the Towers, creators didn't play a central role in their offspring's education or rearing, relying instead on prep schools and tutors. Skyrazor was one of the most prestigious tutors a family could hire, having turned out topnotch students for countless vorns. Mirage's creators hired him, and he taught Mirage all there was to know about math, science, history, and the arts, as well as social etiquette, politics, hunting, weaponry, and . . . interfacing."

Finding himself sadly unsurprised as all the bits and pieces were pulled together, Hound remained quiet, but the pain creeping into Mirage's tone made him ache. He realized that Mirage had distanced himself from his memories by telling the story in third person, but even that didn't seem to be stopping all the anguish.

Mirage traced his fingertips over the holophoto frame, mapping the corners and edges nonchalantly. He never looked away from his fingers. "Mirage's memories are still blurred and fragmented in places, even with the memory blocks gone, but he remembers that he believed the abuse was normal, if unpleasant, and only tried once to tell his creators. They acted like he hadn't spoken. They ignored him until he left the room."

Hound flinched, wanting so much to hug him, comfort him, but also knowing he couldn't. A strange spell had fallen over Mirage, and Hound suspected if he broke it, he'd never hear the rest of the story.

"Skyrazor had rather fascinating ways to motivate Mirage, punish him, reward him, and keep him quiet." He still didn't look away from the frame. His fingers pinched one corner, making the metal creak. "We won't even discuss what happened the time Mirage tried to run away."

Despite the fact his entire spark stung with his bondmate's pain, Hound forced himself to remain silent.

"Mirage learned very quickly to do as Skyrazor asked and do it well, whether in the berth or out of it. Later, there were always repercussions, and he didn't want the negative kind." He laughed again, this time sharply, and glanced at Hound. "Lucky you." He seemed to focus suddenly. "I probably have the interfacing skills of a pleasure 'bot."

"I don't want a pleasure 'bot," Hound replied softly. "I want to love you. I want you to let me love you."

Mirage looked away. "Are _you_ sure _you_ want to do that? There's more in me than just firewalls. I have countless barriers that aren't related to software, and so far, I've only torn down a fraction of them."

Unable to resist his impulse to comfort his bondmate, Hound crossed the room and pulled him into his arms. "If you're willing, we can tackle one wall at a time." He hugged him to his chassis.

"I'm tired," he whispered, not pulling away. "I'm happy to be feeling stronger, but I'm exhausted from all the memories." He rested his head on Hound's shoulder. "And I'm tired of being alone, too."

Hound leaned back and pressed a kiss to Mirage's temple. "It's okay. I don't _want_ you to be alone. Let's just set up a simple understanding and then work our way forward. What do you say?"

"Understanding?" Mirage lifted his gaze to meet Hound's.

"One, that I will not hit you. I can never be comfortable with that." Hound listened closely to their bond and could feel that Mirage was uneasy but also fighting to be calm. "Two, that you can tell me at any time that _you_ are uncomfortable with something, and I'll stop immediately. Is that fair?"

"Yes, that's logical."

"Okay." Hound smiled. "As for intimacy, maybe we shouldn't just jump straight to interfacing. We could do just use our energy fields. Worked well enough in the washracks that one time." He grinned and then paused, thinking through other options. "Or we could spark-merge."

"But if we do that, you'd actually _see_ what—" Cringing, Mirage pulled away from him. "My spark is the only thing I have left that's not contaminated. It's the only thing Skyrazor wouldn't touch because he feared creating a spark bond."

"You're already spark-bonded to me," Hound replied in a quiet, soothing tone. "You don't need to fear it. And if you're conscious for an 'official' spark-merging, you'll see the depth of my love for you." He held out one hand, silently asking for Mirage's trust, but didn't step closer. "You'll see all my intentions toward you, all my feelings for you. I can't lie to you during a merging."

Mirage stared at his hand. "Hound . . ."

"My spark energy is already within you, and vice versa." Hound remained calm, factual. "I can't give or take anything from you because the bond is already in place. And I don't care what I 'see' from you, even if I see your memories. You just won't have carry them alone anymore, okay?"

Mirage raised his gaze. "I'm uncomfortable."

Hound nodded and dropped his hand, reminding himself it might take many stellar cycles before Mirage was healed enough to attempt a merging. "Okay. I'm glad you're willing to speak up." Giving Mirage a sincere smile, he moved past him and returned to the couch. "Want to cuddle some more?"

"If you don't mind." Mirage settled on the couch, curling up against his side. "Don't think I don't trust you," he whispered. "I actually have been learning to. I just need a bit more time before I consider spark-merging."

"That's fine." He took one of his hands, lacing their fingers together. Given all the progress Mirage had made, Hound believed he could fight his way up to spark-merging, and he was more than willing to give him the time and support necessary. "One step at a time. In the meantime, keep the bond open so you can feel my love, all right?"

Mirage rested his head on his shoulder. "Yes." He paused, tensing. "I guess in light of my revelation that Skyrazor considered me his property, you must now think it's weird that I have those possession fantasies."

Feeling Mirage's fear, Hound sent him reassurance over the bond. For the last ten orns, he and Mirage had been discussing his fantasies—both his original ones and the ones that still appealed to him. They'd even discussed what Hound would and wouldn't be comfortable trying.

"I don't know," Hound said, running the backs of his fingers over Mirage's cheek. "Maybe you want to prove to yourself that you're not Skyrazor's property, or maybe you're trying to associate pleasure with a concept that always caused you pain. Or maybe it's something else entirely. I don't mind your 'You are mine' fantasies, and we can use them if you like. But I want you to know something very important: I'm as much yours as you are mine. I love you, and I'll protect you. But you aren't my property."

Mirage nodded and buried his face against Hound's neck. "All right."

"I'm serious," Hound whispered, rubbing his back. "In fact, sometimes when we role-play, I'd like us to switch roles. I'd like for you to tell me that I'm yours as well. I trust you enough to believe you'd bring me pleasure, and I think you'd look and sound sexy playing out the other side of the fantasy." His circuits zinged at the mere thought of it: Mirage teasing him senseless and his being helpless to stop it as wave after wave pleasure raced through him . . .

Mirage shivered faintly and sat up to meet his gaze. "That was quite a surge of desire that came through our bond just then."

Hound grinned. "It goes both ways: the love, the trust, the needs, the pleasure. We have to take care of and protect each other."

Leaning forward, Mirage pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "When this all began, I wouldn't have believed that, but I do now."

Hound returned the kiss, lingering a moment before pulling back. "In that case, you really are defeating Skyrazor's hold over you."

"But I'm not completely healed." Mirage snuggled up against him again. "I'd say I've made a great deal of progress, and I'm willing to keep fighting until I am finished."

Hound kissed his helm. "That's all anyone can ask for."

Several kliks of silence passed, then Mirage spoke again. "Stay with me tonight? I'd like to have you at my side while we recharge."

"Anything for you, love." Hound hugged him close, knowing all his patience and work had been worth it.

oOoOo

Mirage awakened to the darkness of his quarters and realized he was feeling more peaceful and warmer than usual. Groggily, he noted that an arm was around his waist and remembered that he and Hound had retired to the berth after all long discussion of his newest recovered memory. He smiled to himself. Hound had been encouraging, reassuring, and patient as Mirage worked through his feelings, and now he lay curled up against Mirage's back. He glanced over his shoulder and decided his mate looked beautiful while recharging.

Apparently sensing Mirage stirring, Hound woke up and smiled at him. "Hey, love," he whispered, kissing his shoulder. "Bad dream?"

Mirage shook his head. "No." He rolled over, running his arm around Hound's waist, and tucked his head under his chin. "I do have nightmares sometimes, though. At times, I still feel trapped by them, even."

"I can handle it," Hound replied, rubbing his back with one hand. "I'm not sure where you are, figuratively, but I am a scout. I'd like to think I can find my way through more than physical landscapes."

_Can my final assumption be wrong, too?_ Mirage wondered, relaxing into Hound's embrace. _Can he see inside me and not leave in disgust?_ He didn't know the answer to his question, but he did know he wanted to be held. "Just don't let go," he whispered, afraid that if they ever did spark-merge, Hound would not want to be anywhere near him, much less touch him.

"I won't." Hound held him close, kissing his helm, the end of his nose, his cheek. Mirage curled into the embrace, accepting the comfort, needing it and coveting it. And then he felt it: his spark calling out to Hound's, aching to be merged. He suspected Hound must have experienced the sensation, too. Likely, it had been the reason he'd wanted to try sharing their sparks.

Shuddering, Mirage clutched Hound tightly. His entire being seemed to burn for the merging, and part of him wanted nothing more than to share his spark with Hound. However, he was also terrified that Hound would see his memories and ultimately reject him. It was one thing to know what had happened to him and another to be forced to see it during a sharing.

It was an issue of trust. Always trust. Mirage realized he had one more leap of faith to make, and he decided he was willing to make it. He wanted to live with Hound as bondmates. He wanted to share the rest of his life with him. He might not be able to spark-share right away, but he knew that he wanted to trust Hound as much as Hound trusted him.

Mind made up, Mirage cycled air through his intakes until he calmed down and let Hound's gentle touches lull him into recharge.

oOoOo

The following orn, Hound thought nonstop about Mirage's reaction to his love and care. It was definitely a good sign, and the simple friendship and courtship seemed to have shown Mirage the truth of Hound's love. Also, Mirage had clearly been working hard on himself, no doubt even harder than Hound had been in his many long talks with Jazz.

Determined to support Mirage any way he could, Hound gathered all his determination and returned to Mirage's—or rather, their—quarters after his shift. Mirage had arrived first, and upon seeing Hound, he stood from the couch and walked over to meet him.

"I'm glad you came here. Did you have a good patrol?" Mirage gave him a shy smile.

Hound pulled him into his arms and kissed him, wanting nothing more than to shower affection upon him. To not waste this second chance he was getting. "Yes. But I hardly think it'll be the best part of my day."

Relaxing, Mirage leaned against him. "I'm relieved to hear you say that." He returned the kiss, nibbling on his lower lip for a moment. "Hm. This feels almost like we're normal bondmates."

"Maybe we should be." Hound stole another kiss. "I feel I'm ready, whenever you are."

Mirage paused, then nodded. "I think so. Besides, I have to admit that your little talk about role-playing and role-reversal set my processor to thinking." He snickered. "I've been a bit distracted all orn."

Hound laughed. "Oh? Is that so?" He hugged Mirage tightly, then spun them around in a circle. "I have to admit, I've been having all sorts of fantasies about you of late — both kinky and not."

Catching his lips again, Mirage delved his glossa into his mouth and kissed him into silence. When he finally pulled away, his optics seemed to shine brighter than usual. "Is that so?"

"Um-hm." Hound couldn't find his vocal processor at first. To have Mirage greet him with love, smiles, and desire made all his systems heat up. "In fact, I've been giving it a lot of thought." He paused, reviewing the advice Jazz had given him.

A small smile bent up the corners of Mirage's mouth. "Would you like to try out some of those thoughts? As in, right now?" He seemed amused.

"Well, not necessarily." Hound paused, unsure. "I mean, unless you'd like to."

Mirage chuckled. "Sure. Why not?"

Hound fought his nervousness a moment before continuing. He wanted Mirage desperately, but he also wanted to get it right. "Want to role-play a bit?"

"Definitely." Mirage seemed to relax. "It's fun, I promise."

Cringing with concern, Hound hesitated. "I might not be very good at it at first. Pick something simple."

"Don't be so worried. Acting may come easily to spies, but there's no reason you can't get the hang of it." Mirage paused as though considering the options. "Let's stick with something pretty standard, then. How about pretending you're my commanding officer who's had a secret desire for one of the 'bots in his division — me — and finally decides to make me his?"

Finding himself amazed by Mirage's easy answer, Hound nodded. "I think I can pull that off. Um, any requests?"

"Not this time." Mirage grinned. "Normally I'd suggest some dialogue for you." A distinct purr colored his tone as he leaned close to Hound's face. "Probably even have some specific suggestions for just how you'd go about 'making me yours.' But not this time. For now, just do whatever you're comfortable with, and like we agreed yesterday, I'll say 'I'm uncomfortable' if I am."

Finding his systems heating up from the sexiness of Mirage's voice, Hound had to gather his thoughts before he could respond. "I'll do my best. But, uh, how do I begin?"

Mirage was so close their lips brushed when he replied. "Let's just start in the middle of the scene."

"The middle?" Hound repeated, his lips tingling from the touch, from the need to kiss him.

Mirage leaned up to whisper in his audio. "You've overridden the door lock and swept into the room, telling me about your hidden desire and coming on to me."

Shivering, Hound focused on the seductive sound of Mirage's tone. "Okay . . ."

"And I'll pretend to be shocked." Mirage suddenly stepped just out of reach. "And initially reluctant."

Instinctively, Hound stepped forward to close the distance and, throwing himself into the outlined scene, said the first thing that came to mind. "Why so surprised, solider? Surely you've detected the signs." For a moment, he was tempted to laugh at himself, but determined to hold the role, he kept a straight face. He was going to make it work no matter how silly he felt.

Mirage danced away, watching him with wide optics. "No, sir. I noticed nothing. And besides, it's against protocol."

"Frag the protocols." Hound couldn't believe how husky he sounded as he slinked after the retreating Mirage. "I'm done with waiting. Done pretending."

"Sir?" The tiniest smile appeared and then vanished from Mirage's lips, and he backed into the corner by the berth.

Sinking himself further into the role, Hound slowly stalked across the floor, feeling much like the hunting wolves he had watched in the forests. "I'm going to make you mine." He paused just an arm's-length from Mirage, blocking his escape, and even from that distance, he could feel the heat radiating from Mirage's armor.

"Sir," Mirage's voice had grown raspy, "we really shouldn't."

"Don't care." The sight and sound of Mirage's arousal was so powerful Hound could barely draw air through his intakes. "You're mine." He leapt forward, scooping him into his arms. When Mirage turned his face away, he sank his mouth onto his neck instead, catching a cable there and sucking it, pouring all his arousal into that single action.

Mirage moaned loudly, and his pleasure crashed through their bond so hard Hound thought his knee joints would fail.

"No . . ." Mirage managed to croak, and Hound kissed up the length of his neck, licking, nipping, and sucking as he went.

When he reached Mirage's audio, he whispered into it. "I want you. I want you sprawled out beneath me, moaning in pleasure."

Mirage shuddered and offlined his optics briefly. Hound held him tightly, keeping his arms trapped between their chests, and began kissing and nipping his way back down Mirage's neck. Mirage gasped in pleasure and pressed closer to him, and Hound took the opportunity to slip his hand into the open cockpit in his back, caressing the sides and setting off sensory nodes. Mirage shivered uncontrollably.

"Sir!" Even then, Mirage managed to hold onto his role, and Hound was determined not to disappoint.

Hound turned them around. "Lie on the berth." He made it an order.

"No." It was barely more than a whisper, but Mirage didn't budge.

Pausing, Hound remembered that Mirage had said he'd pretend to be reluctant, so he simply continued. "Lie on the berth. _Now._" He backed Mirage up until his legs touched the berth.

Waves of arousal permeated their bond, but still Mirage shook his head. Hound pushed him down onto the berth and climbed on top of him, resting his weight on his thighs.

"Yes," Hound said, answering the nonverbal refusal, and he was amazed by how sultry his voice sounded. He leaned down, wrapping his arms under Mirage's shoulders and bringing their lips together. He slipped his glossa into Mirage's mouth, tasting him, rubbing their glossae together, and then pulling back to suck on his bottom lip before releasing the kiss.

"You're mine now," Hound whispered, overwhelmed by the need surging through their bond from Mirage. Need and encouragement. Hound kissed and licked his way down his neck once more, and when Mirage shifted impatiently, he lifted his head and gave him a wicked smile.

"Stay still." It wasn't a request. "I told already: you're mine now."

"Sir!" Mirage collapsed against the berth, panting faintly as his systems heated up further. Reassured, Hound continued, caressing Mirage's entire chassis, running his fingertips over Mirage's crest and Autobot symbol, tracing his fingers down his sides, and splaying his hands over Mirage's abdomen plates.

"Sir . . ." Mirage squirmed under the touches, heat positively radiating from his armor.

"Quiet." Hound kept his voice commanding, but not cruel. He replaced his hands with his mouth, licking sensitive nodes on Mirage's chest as he slipped his fingers into Mirage's hip strut, seeking and finding the sensitive bundle of wiring there and rubbing it. He wanted to give Mirage as much pleasure as he could.

Mirage gasped and arched into the touch. "S-sir!"

"I said _quiet._" Hound realized his tone had grown breathless, and his cooling fans kicked on. The sight of Mirage's pleasure at his hands aroused and mesmerized him. He slipped further down his chassis, running a line of kisses over his abdomen as he caressed his inner thighs.

"Hound!" Mirage seemed to lose his patience. "Oh, Primus! Just jack into me!"

"No." Hound didn't want everything to end so quickly. Instead, he extended his energy field, sifting through Mirage's like the mixing of tides and drawing a moan from him. He sank his fingers back into Mirage's hip strut, returning to the sensitive wiring there and teasing it relentlessly even as he pushed energy into their shared field. With his other hand, he mouthed the expanse of Mirage's chest armor, triggering sensor nodes and pulling gasps and shivers from him. "Do you want me?" he finally whispered, dropping his hand to trace the graceful curve of Mirage's leg.

"Yes!" Mirage writhed beneath him. "Hound, please!"

Hound climbed up his body. "Then come here," he growled softly into Mirage's audios, making him shiver again. With a sudden tug he pulled them onto the floor, sitting so that Mirage had to straddle his hips.

"Hound?" Mirage seemed bewildered.

"I can touch more of you this way," he whispered. Not wanting him to get nervous with the change, Hound pulled Mirage's interfacing cord from its chamber and stroked it.

Mirage's entire body arced in pleasure, and he wrapped his arms around Hound's neck as he moaned. After another long, sensual stroke, Hound plugged the cord into his own port, groaning at the surge of pleasure immediately released by the act. Then he plugged himself into Mirage's port, completing the circuit, initiating their systems synchronization, and wrapping his arms around Mirage's waist. "Now I'm yours, too."

With a gasp, Mirage nodded and pulled closer to him, shifting with the pulse of energy between them. When their systems aligned, Hound felt Mirage's pleasure as though it were his own, and Mirage moaned deeply as Hound's restrained arousal broke free between them.

_::I love you,::_ Hound told him over their bond, running his hands up his back in a caress and dipping into his open cockpit to set off the sensory nodes buried there. He gasped as the pleasure echoed between them. _::This is what I wanted: to be one with you. Together, forever, sharing a love without fear.::_

_::Hound!::_ Mirage's emotions destabilized as Hound's love was transferred directly into his processor. Fear, hope, want, and answering love returned through their connection.

"I'm right here," Hound whispered aloud, sending an electrical surge through Mirage's systems and through his energy field simultaneously.

Mirage moaned, arching taunt, and Hound's circuits tingled as their energy fields merged. Barely giving Mirage time to ride out the first surge, Hound sent a stronger one, making them both cry out. At the same time, he sent feelings of reassurance, warmth, and affection.

Gasping, Mirage clung to him, his thoughts racing through their connection. _::Don't . . . don't leave. Don't stop. I-I . . .::_

Hound could feel the fear snaking through Mirage's passion. "I'm not going to hurt you, love. Just let go and trust me. I'll catch you. I'll never let you fall."

Mirage offlined his optics and pressed close to Hound, who could feel him reaching inward, chasing the thread of desire and pushing against the fear.

"That's right, love." Hound sent a deep surge burning through them both, making them moan and arch into one another. As their chassis rubbed together, Hound felt their sparks call to one another.

"Hound, I-I—" Mirage flinched, but the thought had traveled to Hound instantly. _::I want to try the spark merge now.::_ "Quickly—" _::before I lose my nerve.::_

_::Don't be afraid.::_ Hound freed one hand to trace the transformation seam on Mirage's chest. _::Open up for me.::_ He felt the pull between their sparks intensify and prayed Mirage could find the strength to see it through. Through their connection, Hound sensed Mirage's fear, but he also sensed him gather his courage. Mirage triggered his spark chamber open, and he did the same. Their sparks sang to each other, matching frequency in a soft hum, and their blue light bathed Mirage's face.

"Hound!" Mirage seemed trapped between terror and passion. _::What if you see . . .?::_

Hound hugged him close, massaging his back and kissing his neck. "It's okay even if I do. I love you." He eased their sparks together, feeling his sense of self slip away as they merged, and then they were a single spark.

As one, they felt a split between their passion and their fear. Then an image of a distorted face with crimson optics and a vicious leer surfaced. One half of the merged spark reeled in terror, but the other half remained calm. The ghost sensation of hurting, groping hands erupted in the same places on each of their frames, but the half that was Hound accepted the memory and its pain, and then mentally folded it shut and replaced it with love. The image slipped away, robbed of its power.

Mirage's half of the spark pulsed with relief and desire, wonder and love. Passion resurfaced as a result, and the moan ripped from Mirage was the only warning Hound received before a bolt of pleasure lanced between them. No further dark memories surfaced. Instead, energy spiked through them, dancing along their circuits and making them cry out, gasp, moan, and then overload together, unable to tell their systems apart as energy surges raced through them.

Several kliks passed before Hound realized their sparks had separated and his systems were mostly back in his control. The interface uplink between them kept them synched, however, and Hound could feel Mirage's satisfaction, relief, and exhaustion.

"You really do love me," Mirage whispered.

"I really do." Hound leaned his forehead against Mirage's.

"I can _feel_ it." Mirage leaned in, kissing Hound's cheek, nose, and finally lips. Then he hugged him close again, resting his head on his shoulder. "Am I worth this?" His voice was filled with self-hatred but was so quiet Hound heard the words more through their connection than aloud. "Do I deserve it?"

"Yes." Hound shifted until he could stand, then slipped one arm under Mirage's aft, picking him up and transferring them to the berth. He managed to settle them comfortably without severing their uplink. "I'll overload you every orn, too, until you believe me."

Laughter free of darkness bubbled through their connection even before escaping Mirage's vocalizer. "I can't really complain, then." He tucked his face into Hound's neck. "It's harder for me, but I do love you, too."

Synched as they were, Hound felt the truth of the words: both the love itself and the uncertainty of being so honest. "I know. I'm going to take care of you, okay?"

"All right." Mirage relaxed then, letting himself slip into recharge.

Finally at peace with this first sign of progress, Hound let himself recharge as well, feeling that they could navigate the long road ahead of them.

* * *

_Postscript: Epilogue will be forthcoming since the problem isn't so easily fixed as to disappear after one successful spark merge._

_For the record, all the 'facing in this story isn't here for a cheap thrill. The first two 'facing scenes set up the dysfunction between them and the later two repair the damage ('facing scene 3 repairs 'facing scene 2, and 'facing scene 4 repairs 'facing scene 1). The temp title for this story was "Sexual Healing," actually, and that's what's meant to be: an exploration of a bonded couple learning to trust each other, understand each other, and communicate so that a real relationship and healing can be achieved._

_As some of you may suspect, this story is, indeed, based on a real-life one. I never found out what happened to the couple in question, but like many things that happen to myself or people I know, it eventually worked its way into my fiction anyway. So I wrote an ending, and of course I wanted to leave my readers with hope. I believe in healing._

_Thank you to Cleargold, pl 2363, herongale, and Praxus Prime for beta reading._

_Also, many thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, and faved, including Katherine, Carmilla DeWinter, Dvana, Independent.C., Jovianokamigirl, Thundergryphon, and Dazja. Several reviewers have given me highly helpful and/or detailed feedback, and I really appreciate that._

_Edited version._


	8. Epilogue

"_Right here, right now,  
There is no other place I want to be."  
--"Right Here, Right Now," Jesus Jones_

_**Epilogue**_

December 31, 1999

Under the cloudless, crimson sky, Hound leaned against a smooth bolder and relaxed on the beach. The sun set over southern California, awakening a golden glow in the sand, and the waves rhythmically broke on the shore, soothing his neural net. A massive party was underway elsewhere in the city as humans drowned their fears over the Y2K bug and the world's potential end, but this little patch of beach was deserted and quiet. Hound watched the water lapping at his feet and felt his stress melt away.

Hound heard Mirage's footsteps crunching the sand and glanced toward him. His bondmate strolled down the beach, the sunlight turning his royal blue paint nearly violet, and his gaze seemed pinned on the ocean. He'd gone to retrieve the energon they'd forgotten at their temporary base, but fortunately, they didn't have to think about Decepticons or attacks at the moment, having trounced the 'Cons several joors earlier.

_So beautiful,_ Hound thought, gazing at Mirage's lithe form and graceful steps. They were going to take advantage of the break and the empty beach by enacting one of Mirage's long-held 'romantic setting' interfacing fantasies, and Hound had to admit this particular fantasy appealed to the nature-lover in him.

When Mirage reached him, he handed over one energon cube and then settled by Hound, leaning against his side. "Never thought I'd find anything about Earth so lovely," he admitted quietly.

"Relaxing, isn't it?" Hound gestured at the ocean. "It's almost mesmerizing to watch and listen to."

Mirage grinned and pressed a kiss against his audio sensor. "You really are a helpless romantic. It's quite endearing."

Hound chuckled, feeling through their bond Mirage's appreciation for him. He wrapped one arm around Mirage's shoulder, and they drank their energon in silence, watching the sun dip below the horizon even as their anticipation for their upcoming spark merge built. Mirage's fantasies had never ceased morphing, moving from the domination and mock 'rape' kind into some that bordered on exhibitionism and voyeurism, the latter involving Hound touching himself while a cloaked Mirage 'secretly' watched (something that made Hound think his processor was melting). In Mirage's current favorite one, Hound pretended he was a virgin while Mirage pretended he was a far older and more experienced 'bot introducing him to interfacing. Given how utterly sexy and provocative Mirage could be, Hound had no problems playing along. And yet, already Mirage was generating new ones for them to try, some common and others rare.

Hound stirred, deciding to give voice to his thoughts. "I never thought when we began this journey we'd end up spark merging on a beach."

"Me, neither," Mirage replied with a small smile. "For many reasons. I never imagined being so comfortable with spark merging I thought I'd never work through all those memories and wounds."

"But you made it," Hound replied, setting aside his empty cube and hugging Mirage closer.

He shook his head and set aside his cube as well. "I didn't achieve it. _We_ achieved it, together. You stood by my side and helped me each step of the way. That's how I know you really love me."

"That's what love is." Hound tugged on Mirage playfully, and they toppled over onto the warm sand.

"Yes, well as corny as it may sound, I only feel truly safe around you." Mirage wrapped his arms around Hound as he lay over him.

Hound slowly rained kisses on his face. "It's not corny. I want you to feel safe with me. As safe as I feel with you."

With a shy smile, Mirage nodded. "That's why I'm so grateful we ended up spark-bonded, accidentally or not."

"Me, too." Returning the grin, Hound ran a final scan of the area, and finding they were truly alone, moved his kiss to Mirage's lips, overjoyed to know they could celebrate together, believe together, and make love together.

* * *

_Postscript: Gah, I'm still not super happy with it, but it wouldn't leave me alone. So there you have it._

_Thank you to Cleargold, pl 2363, herongale, and Praxus Prime for beta reading, and thank you to the following for reviews: Auri, Jovianokamigirl, Acocrypha Blessing, Indedependent.C., Dvana, Hellen, and Dazja._

_To Independent.C.: to answer your question, I have two stories in the works__: 1. "Masters of Fate" (sequel to "Sound and Fury"), which has a full outline, 1 chapter, and a few scenes; and 2. A so far unnamed Prowl/Jazz fic, which has been fully outlined but has no scenes yet. All other story ideas are on hiatus or are in the prewriting stage, except for the "Firsts" series, which gets updated as my muse allows._


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